Vas Domus
by EchoCIDE
Summary: She's fallen so low it's unimaginable. When you can't bear to look at yourself or even live without a permanent intoxication, it seems the things you had never suspected would be the only things you find can save you. Wesker/Claire. May get dark at times.
1. I Angelus

_Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy._

...

Vas Domus

I

Angelus

...

Wesker

I remember the pain most of all.

My body had convulsed and tightened, a bitter and metallic flavor made it's way into my throat, the blood bubbling up and spewing from my mouth catching me off guard. Pain gripping my body in a way I have never experienced. I couldn't see; the darkness settling over me like a cold, unwelcomed visitor, and I screwed my eyes shut in defiance. Defiance of what? I find myself asking that question even now, as I sit here in this dim and dingy cafe settled across the street from her apartment building. I am watching people pass by on the streets, and I shiver from the cold as the door is opened. Things like temperature haven't affected me in so long and I find myself at a loss at what to do most times, roaming through this world that has rejected me.

Is that what I was defying against? Humanity? Death? Vulnerability?

I have never felt vulnerable, not even before the virus's effects on me had wrenched me back from the world of the dead and into the false world that I had built around myself. Never once had I felt like a true human, not even when I was one.

But now, now I find myself lonely and cold, and most of all confused.

I can't remember much but I knew that the reason for my newfound humanity was by the hand of the one I had so much hatred for.

Chris Redfield.

I lack the energy to be angry anymore, to hate him, and I have a new sense of apathy towards everything.

Or maybe it's not apathy, perhaps it's something else, I do not know.

I have no self-pity for myself, the loss of what I had worked so hard to achieve, it all came crumbling down in the end anyway, and who's to say it wouldn't have even if it hadn't been for Chris.

I see things differently, in a muted sense of something which I don't believe can be defined, and the heat of this cup of coffee warms my face in a way I haven't felt in so long. It's almost refreshing, to feel things again, if it weren't such a disaster.

I think about what I was trying to accomplish, and I realize that I was foolish. To become a god? A foolish notion.

I know that if it hadn't been for the accident that stripped me of my power I would still be the same tyrant I had been for so long, I would still be fervently plotting the destruction of the world, however in vain it may have been.

But I almost succeeded, didn't I? I had nearly acheived everything I had always wanted, but never once did I ask myself where I would be after that. What would become of me after the entire world had been morphed into blind, bloodsucking creatures?

And even now, I can't answer that.

My eyes are fixated on the building, waiting for her to return to the place of her residence. I have been watching her for some time now, about three months, although why I wished to seek her out is a mystery even to me. Closure perhaps? To tell her I'm sorry? What exactly am I sorry for though? Trying to kill her and her brother? Tearing away the innocence that I had secretly admired and loathed before this all happened? Being the catalyst behind the death of a boy who had professed his love for her moments before he died?

In a way, I never wanted her to get involved and in a way I did. I wanted to see her break, although like most of the questions I ask myself now I can't provide my answer as to why.

I remember the first time I met her, a young, freshfaced student at the highschool. She was bright and strong, clinging to her brother in a way that most younger sisters would. Her eyes so alight with innocence.

Innocence I had robbed her of.

Watching her get out of the car of some random man, her long hair mussed and tousled, her beaten up stiletto pumps clicking against the ground, I see no innocence left in her step. No bouncy happiness that had been her trademark, just a torn mini-skirt to match her broken heart.

She too, had fallen to the wayside.

I've wanted to approach her, to do...anything...but I find I cannot. What is there to say?

She has fallen even further than me. Her brother dead, her friend's rejecting her. The only comfort she could seem to find is at the bottom of a bottle and her repeated rendezvous with unknown men.

I say she has because, I never really had anyone to fall back on, people who cared. I had nothing to lose, but she did. It seems she lost it all too.

I find myself standing, my body moving in a way that I cannot control. I am walking towards the door of the cafe, the piercing cold stabbing through my thick leather jacket.

I will approach her tonight, uncaring of the consequences. I need this, for myself if nothing else. Perhaps I can...help her? I don't know... The kind of help she needs is nothing I can give her. I don't know if I am able of helping myself.

Claire

She mindlessly trudged through the mess of her tiny, rundown shack of an apartment, and fell into a heap on the couch. Her hand found the half drinken bottle of warm whiskey that sat topless on the table next to her, and she chugged half of it in one sip.

It numbed her to the cold that permeated the heatless apartment; she hadn't paid the heating bill in a month nor did she have the need to care for paying it. That money was money she could use to fuel her drug and alcohol habit; her own self-therapy.

She didn't cry anymore, her body completely ignoring the grief she had to bare. She never thought about Chris, or Leon, or even Sherry when she was deep into the bottle. She never wept for Steve, or any of the lost souls that had sold their selves to Umbrella only to be backstabbed.

She briefly remembers being alright after all of the American incidents were over, she remembers celebrating with Chris and Leon and Jill and the rest of her friends. Umbrella and it's sister organizations had been taken down and there was nothing to worry about anymore.

And then Chris and Jill got called to investigate the old mansion belonging to Oswell Spencer, and even though everyone was convinced that all of the terror was behind them it reared it's blonde head once more.

Wesker had fought Jill and Chris and in a last ditch effort to rescue the older Redfield from meeting an untimely death, Jill threw herself and the tyrant out of the window.

She remembers the service that was held, how she wrapped her arm around her distraught brother, how he wept into her arms, how he fled to Africa nearly one month later.

He truly believed Jill was alive, and she was.

A loud knock alarmed the girl who was sprawled out on the dingy little loveseat, and she nearly dropped her empty bottle in surprise. The voice that followed it made her actually drop it and shatter to the floor in tiny shards of glass.

"Claire! Open this fuckin' door...or...Imma kick it 'n."

She began to panic, clamoring to her feet and making her way to the fire escape. Her drunken fingers desperately tried to pull open the latch, but she was having a difficult time of it, and jammed her index finger on the glass.

"Bitch! I said open th' door." He was banging now, and by the slur in his voice she could tell that he was even drunker than she was. Just as she managed to get one latch undone the door flew off it's hinges, wood splinters flying right into her flesh, and she cried out as she was forced against the wall.

His grimy fingers were all over her and she tried to struggle but when she felt the cold steel of the pocket knife against her throat she froze.

"You tryin' to run 'way from me? Hmm?" For emphasis he pressed the knife flush against her neck, withdrawing a tiny trickle of blood. She looked at his face, his eyes were cold and alarmingly sharp for someone who was as drunk and drugged out as he was. Suddenly she felt overwhemingly sobered.

"J-Joey...I told you to leave me alone. I don't want...I don't want anything to do with you anymore." She shuddered as the words came out wavering as unsteady as she felt. She locked his gaze as he pushed himself further against her. She struggled in vain as she felt a prominent bulge in his pants become even more prominent.

Sick fuck, he was getting off on this.

"Baby," His breath stank of some disgusting gasoline smelling alcohol and days of not brushing, "You can't jus' say you're gonna do somethin' for me and then take my money and leave. Tha's bad for business." His tongue darted out to lick his lips and the hand not holding the knife began to trace up and down the valley between her breasts. She began to wish she had worn more than a midriff baring sleeveless vest. "Now get your sweet little ass back out there and make Daddy some money, like the good li'l slut you are."

A flash of anger coursed through her and she spat in his face, "Fuck off."

His snarl was the only warning she had before his threw her onto the couch, tearing her shirt in the process, and leaping onto her. One hand was covering her mouth, and the other was undoing his pants.

She attempted to squirm free of him, but his knees were bared into her thighs, and when she was able to free one leg to send a knee to his groin, the icy cold metal of the knife was back bearing into her throat and she froze.

"Wiggly little bitch aren't ya?" His tongue flicked out and he licked the side of her mouth, she flinched away and then brought her head back to slam into his. She forgot the knife in her fear however and the metal bit into her skin sharply.

He wasn't deterred, and now he was beyond pissed.

"Imma fuckin' kill you, bitch" He screamed, shaking her violently, so much so it ruptured a blood vessel in her nose and she could feel the warm fluid pour out like a broken faucet. He slammed her head on the couch arm, and she could feel her conciousness weave in and out as the only thing she heard was the rip of fabric and flesh.

She looked down, the world seeming to move very slowly, and found that the knife handle sticking out of her gut to be not as alarming as she thought it would be.

She was better off dead anyway.

And then...

...just when she thought her life was over and her trial done, the weight of the body on top of her was removed followed by a sickening crack and a scream.

Just before the blackness faded in and death took her over, she was cradled in the arms of an angel.

The angel was here; here to take her to her brother, her mother and father, to forgive her for her sins, to envelop her in love and understanding.

It had to be an angel, she consoled herself, it just had to be.

...

A/N: Well there. Review and the like, and even if I do appreciate constructive criticism-which I truly do-flames are not needed. If you don't like it, don't read it. Simple as that.

By the way, Vas Domus means Glass House in Latin. Angelus means Angel. I will translate the chapter titles at the end of every chapter for you.

Hoped you enjoyed reading the first chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Gratia ago vos.

Lol...means thank you.

A/N 2: Okay just a little change here. Hope you don't mind.


	2. II Vivus Tamen Non Victus

_Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy._

...

Vas Domus

II

Vivus Tamen Non Victus

...

A rush of pure adrenaline fueled him as he snapped the man's arm with what seemed like less than normal effort. Strange, he mused, and tossed the dirty fuck to the side ignoring his cries for help.

"Y-Y-You fuck! You broke my arm!" The offender cried out, cradling the limp limb in his lap, his pants still around his thighs. Wesker ignored him, and went to the unconcious girl on the couch, he quickly removed his jacket and ripped the sleeve off of his long sleeved oxford and with a doctor's precision wrapped it around the knife wound. The offending weapon lay discarded in the corner after what he supposed had been this man ripping it back out of her with an intent to continue his onslaught. He placed his jacket around her, wrapping her up and scooped her up gently, taking care to cradle her head as one would with a newborn baby.

He took a very brief moment to examine the apartment, and found that it contained nothing of particular value that she may want. No personal effects, no cell phone, no keys, so he ignored it and stepping over the man with the broken arm in the corner who was still blubbering like a little girl and was making his way into the hallway.

"Ya ain't gonna get much out that bitch, man..." The cretin was laughing now, and it caused Wesker to stop, eyes fixed on the scum.

"I wrecked the fuck out of that pussy before ya got here, and even before then. I-I-I had the slut beggin' for it."

Wesker narrowed his eyes, and a wave of anger swept over him as he responded, his voice low.

"Is that so?"

"Oh yeah, she's nothing but a dirty little two-faced bitch. You can keep her if ya want, not like it's gonna matter since ya ain't gonna be leaving here alive."

Joey's unbroken arm moved, and his hand traveled to the inside of his jacket where he slowly withdrew a Jericho 941 F pistol, and raised it up toward Wesker, his hand shaking and unable to steady a shot.

_'Not that he would be able to land it,'_ He may not have the virus flowing through his veins anymore but he wasn't going to be bested by some little street thug. With nominal speed, Wesker pulled out his own Desert Eagle and landed a clean shot right through the thug's heart. Deadman slumped over into a heap, blood pouring out from his lips, leaving crimson stains on the dirty carpet.

No more time for games.

As he descended the steps with the brunette still in his arms, he recieved some strange looks as curious neighbors swung open doors to see what all the racket was. He ignored them and continued on his way. His eyes glanced down to her and within a second he realized that her injuries could potentially be very severe and he needed to get her some medical help as soon as possible.

A hospital was simply out of the question, but he really didn't need a hospital. He was still one of the most competent medical professionals he knew. The only things he would need a hospital for would be the medical equipment it could possibly harbor.

So where would he take her?

As he approached the black Mercedes Guardian it came to him. There was a small facility that had belonged to him before the bitter end came, and it was located no more than 20 miles from this town. He should be able to make it there quick enough and it had all of the equipment he needed to tend to the girl. He opened the back door and laid her down in the backseat as gently as he could, taking careful care to not jerk or jar her head or neck.

He got in and pulled out of the parking lot, checking his rearview and sure enough the flash of white and blue police lights were flooding into his car.

He felt no panic, especially when the police vehicles drove straight past him and into the parking lot outside of the apartment building.

With a shift of the gear, and a rev of his steady foot on the gas, Albert Wesker-formerly the most dangerous man in the world and known enemy of the ones she held so dear- pulled out of the parking lot with a young unconcious and bleeding broken soul in his backseat.

Oh, how life could turn out sometimes.

...

_A lovely warmth enveloped her, and she embraced it, sighing contentedly to herself. Blue eyes drifted open and were met with a heart-warming sight. Leon and Chris and Jill, they all sat around her on the plush sofa in her brother's apartment. She looked around happily, noticing Rebecca and Carlos, and even Barry and family all surrounding her. _

_"Chris! I'm so happy you're here!" She cried out and tried to launch herself at him but found her body very still and unable to move. Chris and the others looked...odd. They weren't moving, their bodies seeming catatonic, an incredibly strained smile on all of their faces._

_"Chris?" She reached out a shaking hand to touch his face and suddenly in an automatic motion, his head turned and his mouth opened. It was just like a ventriloquist dummy, opening just like that of a puppet, methodic and stiff._

_The noise that flooded out was heart-stopping; a loud screeching siren mingled with a deafening static._

_The others all did the same, and Claire found herself glued to the spot, struggling and trying to get away but couldn't move at all. She covered her ears but the noise still permeated her hands._

_One by one the puppets started to melt, and under the plastic like consistency of their skin was actual muscle and tissue. Blood poured from their eyes, and then it began to spray out of their mouths and covered her. _

_She opened her mouth to scream and then..._

Her head exploded with violent colors and flashes, and she let out an audible scream; her body wrenching up in an almost self-destructive way.

And then she fell.

She toppled off of the bed, crying out in agony, fingernails clawing at her head, thoughts and words incoherent and she felt like she was in a blind, pain fueled rage.

Was this hell?

She couldn't see, and her body felt overcome with sluggishness but her brain was in overdrive and she began to tear the sheets off of the hospital style bed, screaming words that didn't exist. A sharp ripping noise she ignored as well as the stinging burn that traveled up her arm rang through her brain. She didn't notice but she had managed to rip her IV right out down the vein in all of her thrashing.

Something strong wrapped around her waist and pulled her back onto the bed, but she thrashed and struggled against it defiantly. It was too strong however and had managed to subdue her.

No longer screaming and thrashing as she felt a tiny pinprick in her neck, the pain in her head started to go away and she felt like she was melting into the bed. With a strained sob and a sigh she drifted back into sleep.

.

_Three days later..._

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, only to be met with mostly darkness; the only lights in the room exuding from the blinking lights on an IV stand and a heart monitor.

Her head was heavy and her body even more so, but she breathed a small sigh of relief that she wasn't in much pain anymore. Bits and pieces of memory reminded her of what had happened when she woke up before.

She slowly started to rise out of the bed, but never actually stood. She wasn't sure if she could trust her legs to support her just yet.

She did realize that she wanted some answers though, considering the last thing she remembered prior to that terrible incident when she had woken up before was sitting on her couch drinking some terribly sour whiskey and a horrible crack that resounded in her head even now.

Sitting for a moment she took in her surroundings, and it appeared she was in a normal hospital room; there were even some fake flowers settled in a potted plant on a little table to the right of her bed.

A burning urgency spread through her pelvis and she realized that she had to urinate badly and if she didn't soon her bladder may as well explode anytime now.

With a shaky resolve and equally shaky limbs she managed to stand, her muscles and bones screaming out in little pops and creaks.

How long had it been since she had used them?

The walk to the bathroom-the door was open and she could see the toilet gleam from what appeared to be a dim light along the wall that she hadn't noticed in her initial examination-took a ridiculously long time due to the severe disuse of her limbs, but thankfully there were no obstacles in her way.

Once in the bathroom her hand extended outward blindly and finally collided with what felt to be a lightswitch. She clicked it on and simultaneously pulled down her underwear and fell onto the toilet, her knees being too weak to bend slowly and properly.

It took a minute but as it came she let out the loudest sigh of relief and sat looking around the small bathroom as the stream seemed to be endless. A small one-person shower stall was to the right of the toilet, along with a sink to the left of the toilet. Something caught her eye in the shower though, and she leaned forward and pulled the glass door open.

Brand new toiletries, all high priced brands, lined the little shelf. Her eyebrow furrowed in curious interest; these weren't just normal hospital standard items, they looked like they were specifically bought for someone.

She stood and flushed the toilet, slowly washing her hands and leaned into the shower to pick up a bottle of luxuriously cream wash and opened the cap letting her nose breeze by it.

It smelled like fresh cashmere and vanilla, and she sighed in bliss.

"I thought you might like it. It seemed like something you would use."

She jumped, the bottle falling to the floor with a resounding thump. The voice was deep and had a somewhat regal accent, and she knew it was familiar but she was too alarmed to place it.

"W-What the hell do you think y-you're doing! You scared me half to death!" Her voice came out raspy from unuse, and her throat burned like someone had poured a bottle of acid into it while she had slept. A somewhat amused snort came from the stranger, "Good to see you're doing better."

She huffed a bit, "Yeah well...not if you're going to go around giving people heart attacks. Just what the hell-" She turned and was met with the sight of the stranger. Her words failed her after that, her eyes widening in sheer fear, and it felt like she had been punched.

Her breaths wouldn't come.

The one and only Albert Wesker was standing right in front of the doorway. 

...

A/N: Another chapter down, who knows how many more to go. I liked this one but not really until I was writing Claire's part did I really feel secure in it. I didn't find the correct way to express Claire's rescue the way I wanted to but I did enjoy describing her first wake-up experience. I would like to thank the people who reviewed the first chapter and their wonderful reassurance; RalineE, elevenzombiezz, Biohazard Queen, and Olivia-B52007. All of your words of encouragement mean more to me than you could know. Lots of cookies and love to you for being my very first reviewers. On to the other formalities...

Vivus Tamen Non Victus means Alive But Not Living (or is the BEST translation I could muster up).

Once again, thank you for all that you do when you read this story. It means the world to me.

Until next time. *bows*


	3. III Iniuria

Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy.

...

Vas Domus

III

Iniuria

...

She couldn't speak, her mouth partially open and her body constricted. She could do nothing more than stare. What seemed like hours passed as slowly as molasses in a matter of what couldn't be more than a minute or two. The silence was thick and heavy, but she was the one who spoke first.  
>"Why...are <em>you<em> here?" Her voice was steady and strong, the pause she used in fear sounding more reinforced in loathing than in actual fear; her legs still shook however but she told herself it was because they were weak from being out of commission in her unconcious state.

"It's not what you think..." Why did his voice sound like that? He sounded almost sincere. Of course it was all a trick. It simply had to be.

Her eyebrow rose and she decided to humour him until she could promptly find a proper way of escaping.

"Then," she tried her best to put on her 'I'm not afraid of you face', her efforts merely producing a twist of her features which was probably more ridiculous than proud, "What is it?"

She backed up, until her hand was hidden by the door, and slid it around the wall in order to find something-anything-she could use as a potential weapon. When her hand met the metal of a towel rack, she almost smiled. The chances of her injurying him were zero to none, but it may provide just enough of a distraction to work her way out of there.

"I see you don't remember what happened." He shifted on his weight, the light of the bathroom illuminating him more fully now, and she couldn't help but notice some things.

Some out of place things.

There were a set of fine lines around his mouth, and even though they had always been there, they seemed much more prominent than they had before. He was dressed in a standard doctor get-up -a white button down shirt, black non-pleated slacks, and a white lab coat-when he seemed to favor all black all of the time from the previous encounters they had. His usually perfect strands of blonde were somewhat disheveled, the few strands lingering over his slight widow's peak stood out immensely.

The last thing she noticed was perhaps the most baffling.

His eyes were a cold steel-grey blue. The exact same color they had been when he had first been introduced to her so many years ago as her brother's revered captain.

She made no mention of any of this, deciding it was probably all just a ploy to get her to trust him or something. Contacts, nice clothes and a sincere tone wouldn't make her turn her back to the world domineering tyrant he was.

_'Fat chance, asshole.'_

"No...I'm afraid I don't. Why don't you fill me in, _Doctor._" She had to keep him talking so she could wiggle this towel rack off the wall which was proving to be more difficult than she had thought.

A slant crook of his mouth almost resembled a smile but it seemed it never made it that far.

"Why don't you have a seat with me and I'll explain it to you." His accent drawled a bit and she could feel shivers run up her spine in a way she couldn't explain. She didn't really want to.

"I think I'll stay right here if you don't mind." Her words flooded out faster than could be considered calm, and her shivering was probably visible to him.

"I have no plans to injure you, Miss Redfield. I can't say the same for you though; you seem adamant about removing that towel rack." His eyes met hers and her arm froze.

Shit.

Before she could conjure up some useless lie that she knew he wouldn't believe his tall form began to move towards her slowly, as if she was a frightened animal that he didn't want to scare off. Her body pressed against the wall tighter, and she wanted no more than to slip into it and run far away.

He stood before her, half a foot away, his ample height-which she guessed to be around six foot three-towering over her five foot six frame.

His hands reached out to her, and she stopped breathing and screwed her eyes shut. She wanted to scream, cry, and lash out at him but she just stayed frozen, her body pressed against the wall.

A fingertip gently but firmly pressed against her below her ribcage; a doctor's touch. The pressure stung a bit and it caused her eyes to open to find his head bent down fixated on the spot.

"The swelling has gone down but it's still very warm. Could be infection. The bandages need to be changed." His voice was so calm, so...unnaturally mild, and she blinked her eyes in disbelief, their close proximity forgotten about.

"Swelling?"

Bits and pieces of memory filled her head, and suddenly she could remember a very good portion of what had happened.

She had been drunk, and Joey had broken into her house in a rage over the incident from a few nights before. She could remember being pinned beneath him and the warm sting of metal as it was plunged into her stomach. She remembered how dark and cold it became, and when he violently shook her but everything after that was still hazy. But that didn't explain how...

"I...I don't understand-"

His head rose and he stepped away from her in a respectable distance, "Someone tried to kill you, Miss Redfield. I don't see how that's difficult to understand." His voice had a slight hint of mockery-much like she was used to-and she almost exhaled in relief, if he had kept acting so odd she may have had a fit of insanity over unnaturality of it all.

She just huffed slightly, "No. I mean I don't understand exactly how I ended up here...with you...Haven't you done enough?"

"You need to return to your bed, I need to check that wound for infection." His voice was methodical, and Claire's brow furrowed in frustration.

If there was one thing that Claire Redfield would not stand for, it was someone so blatantly disregarding her questions.

"No! How did I get here? What the hell do you want from me?"

"Miss Redfield.." He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. At one time, Albert Wesker would have never been reduced to arguing with a girl. Albert Wesker had never argued with anyone, he merely killed them.

"Tell me what happened. Now!" Her voice trembled, even as afraid as she was she was still just as stubborn as she had always been.

Some things just never changed.

...

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had moved to the bed, after a dizzy spell nearly dropped her on her ass and was perched on the end furthest from him. She kept her eyes fixated the white tile floor as she listened to him tell her that he had run in after her attack and in his own words, "warded off the attacker".

When he was done speaking, he merely stood there, arms folded across his chest. The two sat in silence for a moment. He had expected her to scream at him, to tell him that he was a liar and then try some reckless move that would inadvertantly end up with her injured.

When she finally did speak her voice was solemn and she never raised her head to look at him, the previous fiery attitude replaced with exhaustion.

"Thank you."

He didn't respond to that, and she sighed, clearly at a loss at what to do now. All of this was so surreal and she knew what she should have been doing-what her instincts urged her to do-was to try and get away from him. But something in his voice portrayed nothing but truth.

Her entire life had been nothing but a series of horrendous events, the person it had molded her into was jaded and broken. Perhaps that's why she did nothing but stare at the floor; she just didn't care anymore. She didn't care if he was lying, she didn't care if he brought her here to kill her, she simply didn't care anymore.

Killing her, she thought, may just be a blessing in disguise.

Up until Chris had died she had always urged herself to try and stay optimistic, to believe that life had to get worse before it got better, but when that drug raid had gone horribly awry and she had received the phonecall that had changed her life forever, she just gave up.

It was so difficult to believe that after everything her brother had did, all of the tremendous and seemingly impossible obstacles he had overcame, that he would be so easily taken out by a disgruntled drug runner with a nine millimeter.

One clean shot through the heart was all it took to bring down the man that she had dubbed invincible.

A tear formed at the corner of her eye, and she realized that she desperately needed a drink.

She didn't look up until she heard his light footfalls drift across the floor and he made his way towards the door.

"I need to get some antibiotic for that infection." He said, as if sensing her silent inquiry, and before she could respond he opened and shut the door in a flash, disappearing behind it.

The room was eerily quiet and she leaned against the pillows, a sigh escaping her lips. It left one to wonder exactly how their life had ended up so...unusual...

Her "host" was even more unusual.

A thought hit her like a ton of bricks and floored her; why exactly was he acting so different?

Could something have happened to him?

That thought seemed more ridiculous the more she thought about it. Something happening to Albert Wesker? He had been so corrupted for so long, what could have possibly been enough to change him? Not that he was changed per se, but she sensed that something was certainly different with him.

She kept these thoughts to herself as the door opened again and he re-entered a small syringe and bottle of clear fluid in his hands.

"Roll over please." His eyes were fixated on filling the syringe and his voice was it's normal indifferent tone but he seemed restless and uncomfortable. Claire was somewhat confused, what did he mean by that? She decided to wing it and turned with her back to him.

"I need you to lie down, and roll over onto your stomach."

"What exactly for? Can't you just give me the shot in my arm or something?" She turned back to him and immediately regretted it. He had discarded his lab coat somewhere in between her room and the medicine storage and had rolled up his sleeves. Her eyes lingered on his perfectly formed forearms and then to the bare bit of chiseled chest that peeked behind his partially open collar. He looked down at her and she knew she had been caught staring, and as a hot blush spread over her face an internal battle was waged as to why she had been staring in the first place.

You just weren't supposed to ogle your enemy. Then again you weren't supposed to allow your enemy to inject you with things you didn't even know either.

If Chris could see her now, he'd be beyond disappointed.

"I'm afraid not. In order for the antibiotic to be most effective it needs to be injected into the most muscle dense area." His response received a quirked eyebrow and then widened eyes.

"No." The word left little to argue with, but she should have known that wouldn't deter him.

"Miss Redfield, I'm afraid that if you don't want to concede with my request I will have to force you to. Lie down." His tone was so authoritive and she shivered for an unknown reason; but she still held her ground.

"No. I'm not going to let you stick me in my ass with-with...whatever the hell that is!"

"Lincomycin Hydrochloride. An antibiotic." He sighed, clearly getting irritated with her defiant attitude; honestly she could care less, it wasn't as if she wanted to make things easier on him, "Miss Redfield, I haven't the patience for games. Please roll on to your stomach."

A forty second staring contest ensued between the two before she huffed out rather childlike, "No."

In an instant she was face first into the pillow, her rear end somewhat poised in the air in all of it's glory and sticking out-coverless nonetheless-from the opening in the flimsy medical gown.

...

He pushed on the plunger of the syringe just slightly to rid it of any air bubbles and inserted the needle into her. The few moments he needed to push the entirety of the liquid into her gave him an opportunity to notice her rear end more closely. The soft cream colored skin was taut and completely smooth, and he let his eyes linger a little longer than was necessary on the tiny mole just above her right cheek.

How unusual...he had never particularly paid attention to such a thing before on a patient or even a woman; he never had a need to. His eyes snapped up as a hiss escaped her-from the stinging of the injection he was sure-and she wiggled her bottom around a bit, causing an unnatural warmth spread low in his stomach.

It had been so long since he had felt something like that.

He pushed it aside and removed the needle, placing a small piece of guaze over the site and securing it with tape.

Her muffled voice sounded out indignantly, "Are you done yet?"

"Yes."

He watched her as she turned back over, face completely red and hair mussed all around. Her gown had sagged below her collarbone leaving the flesh there exposed, and he noticed the redness had spread to her throat as well.

"I wouldn't suppose you would have anything to drink would you?" Her voice was small now, her demeanor completely changed from her defiant attitude just a few minutes ago. Probably a direct source of her embarrassment from being exposed to him.

"All I have available is water." In response she merely shrugged, eyes still averted from him. He knew what she meant by 'drink', but something inside of him didn't want to indulge her. He didn't want to be a source of habit for her, only he wished he knew why. Human instincts and thought processes were much more difficult to grasp than he remembered, and often he found himself at war with these new feelings and emotions.

This was one of the reasons why he had embraced the virus with such open arms; humanity was too trivial for him to want to deal with.

Now as he looked upon her-her disheveled hair, the tear stains on her cheeks, the slight pout that settled on her bottom lip-he could feel something about her that had rekindled a flame within himself he had thought he had gotten rid of long ago. A certain duty filled his agenda, a duty to protect her from the things that could hurt her. A duty to protect her from herself.

As her blue eyes met his, he realized that he didn't hate it as much as he had hoped he would.

...

A/N: Okay...another chapter. I know they are short but I have been very busy with motherhood and coursework for school to spend too much time on them. This one I think is a bit long. Iniuria basically translates to Injury. Thank you so much for all of the reviews and positive comments and the like. I understand that this fic is somewhat AU and the characters are a bit OOC but I am trying to make then stay somewhat in character but mold them to fit the plotline of the story. Wesker's cold demeanor will warm up but never to the point where his terribly out of character. Virus or not, he's still Albert Wesker.

Keep up the reviews and the love.

Til next time. :D


	4. IV Suffoco

_Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy._

...

Vas Domus

IV

Suffoco

...

"What happened to you?"

His head never rose to meet her soft inquiry, it was still bent at an angle to concentrate on redressing her wound. She had lifted her gown to give him access to the wound, and the curvature of her breasts were very close to his face.

"Nothing important. You should get some rest, Miss Redfield." His tone left no room to argue and she averted her eyes from him, a soft sigh escaping her lips. He stood with his back facing to her, ready to walk out of the room.

"Probably...but..." She trailed off, and he froze in his steps, waiting for her to continue her words but they never came.

"Goodnight, Miss Redfield." And with a swing of the door he was gone. Her quiet voice trailed after him.

"Goodnight...Wesker.."

...

A hiss escaped his mouth and he braced himself against the metal rail of the elevator, a severe and acute pain spreading throughout his mid-section, unexpectedly rippling through his body. His teeth were bared and his knees began to weaken, lucky he was already being supported on the rail or he would have fallen.

Just as quickly as it came, it had subsided, but what the hell was it?

He straightened himself and continued walking back to the living area that he had decided to stay in. The large room was set up much like a family living room, he wondered what had possessed him to have it designed like that but now he was glad he had. He stepped over the threshold and into the room, tossing himself down on one of the large leather sofas. His eyes drifted close within a few moments, and he realized that it had been nearly a decade since he had felt so tired.

Now that he was back into the world of humanity he had never felt older, his age setting into him like a ticking bomb. He would be 45 this year, but thanks to the superior age slowing effects of the virus he looked no older than his mid thirties.

That too however was starting to change.

Eyes still closed he couldn't help the scoff that escaped him; Albert Wesker, worrying about his age, it was unbelievable even to him.

He ran his hands over his face lingering them on the bridge of his nose and rubbing it roughly. He had been doing that alot lately, he noticed, and alot of other strange quirks he had never thought he'd be doing.

Sliding down the couch and pulling a throw pillow under his head, he decided that he should probably get a few hours sleep before he needed to figure out what he was going to do with the situation he had gotten himself into-not that it would be terribly hard, he mused.

To say he was exhausted was putting it mildly.

He'd worry about that strange pain tomorrow, he'd worry about his slipping vitality tomorrow, he'd worry about Claire Redfield tomorrow.

However, as his eyes drifted down further and sleep grabbed him, her face was all he could see.

...

He jerked awake, his body sitting up violently as if it was being yanked up against his will.

A scream, he had definitely heard a scream, and it had woken him from a very deep sleep.

"Claire." He whispered to no one, and immediately bolted towards her room, speeding up when the scream came again, pinging off the metal walls and into his head. He ran with a lightning-like speed, his body flying through the corridors and down the fire stairs with ease; he hadn't ran this fast since before the virus had left him in the accident.

When he reached her room he flung open her door with a ferocity and his eyes searched for the source of her distress.

Claire was sitting at the edge of the bed, knees hugged to her chest and her body rocking back and forth; her face was covered with wet and dry tear residue.

Before he could stop himself he was in front of her kneeling, checking her for any injuries; satisfied when he had found none he merely sat near her in silence.

Should he be doing something? Should he try to comfort her? He didn't even know what was wrong with her but she seemed so frightened.

He watched as a fresh wave of tears broke forth from her, and her body pitched forward, arms wrapping around his neck clinging to him like a scared child. For a moment he froze and had to fight off the baser instinct that wanted to shove her off of him, but when her head burrowed into his neck and her sobs slowed his own body slackened against hers.

Slowly his arms came up to wrap around her and he realized that she had been asleep this entire time. She must have been having a night terror and when she sensed his presence was she able to calm down in her subconcious.

When her breathing evened out and her sobs had stopped completely he knew he should lay her back down but for some reason his eyes merely lingered on her face. Her features were illuminated by the light seeping through the door from the hall and he studied her.

Her lashes were full and sooty, resting heavily on slightly pinkened cheeks. She still had a twinge of baby fat to her face that gave her a more youthful appearance than most women her age. Her lips were pink and partially opened just as if they were waiting for...

He shook his head as if trying to dislodge the thought, and a sigh left his mouth before he could stop it.

Gently he lifted her, placing her back on the bed gingerly. He watched her for a moment to ensure that another outburst would not follow and only when she burrowed into the pillow did he turn to walk away, but stopped in mid turn.

His hand reached out to brush a stray hair from her forehead, a gesture that perplexed him completely but the hair obstructing her face bothered him. He let it linger a moment, her warm flesh nearly burning into his fingertips.

When he finally turned to leave he spoke, his own voice sounding foreign to himself.

"Sleep well...Claire."

...

_A molten explosion rose up out of the crater, his body thrusting through the lava with ease. Several tentacle-like appendages stretched out as the black Uroboros substance wrapped and engulfed most of his body in a protective barrier, and his eyes grew to a hue that could rival that of hellfire with every second. With a primal roar rising over the beat of the helicopter blades overhead, one of the tentacles lashed out and latched onto the bottom of the helicopter._

_"CHRIS!" His own scream echoed in his head, but he felt so detached from himself, like he was standing outside of his body and looking in. His vision was tunneled with anger and so much hatred as he tried to yank the entire chopper with one swift pull._

_He could see him, so safe up there in his confinement, and his body trembled. He didn't deserve to get away, he didn't deserve to best him. Weak and naive little Redfields, always playing a white knight in a world full of gray._

_His ears picked up the distinct sound of an RPG but he didn't seem to care, so fueled by his rage was he. The tentacles stayed latched on until the very last second, when the rockets simultaneously collided with his chest. In the very instant, his entire body was wrapped in black protective substance as he sank into the fiery pit and every last ounce of energy and strength was being sucked out of his body. His eyes then shut as his body went into some sort of protective hibernation..._

That was the last thing he could remember.

Uroboros had fed off of the T-Virus in his body in order to keep itself alive, thus in turn keeping him alive.

When he awoke he felt weakened and tired, completely drained of every last ounce of supernatural power he had possessed. Somehow he had been removed from the lava on was safely on the ledge, but he had no idea how. He supposed the Uroboros had done that too.

Now, for all he knew, every trace of T-Virus mutation was gone, leaving him completely mortal.

At first he had been in a daze, wandering around the volcano in search of some way to get off. Finally he had found an old plane that had been abandoned on a small island just south of it, so on a whim that was fueled by exhaustion and the survival instinct, he managed to swim to the island.

Miraculously the old thing still worked and with a little wiring work he managed to start it.

When he finally returned back to his main laboratory base off the coast of south Africa, he found it completely demolished, save for the underground hangar that still harbored one of the escape planes in decent shape.

From there he traveled back to America, to Maryland; assuming the guise of one of his many well-created alter egos he managed to gain back some personal documents and investments from one of his many bank accounts.

He supposed now that it was a good thing that he had covered his tracks so well; if he had been caught he would be at the mercy of many different governments all of whom wanted his head on a platter.

However, for all intents and purposes-and thanks to the story of one late Christopher Redfield-Albert Wesker was dead.

He did run the risk of having Claire run off to expose him. He truly hoped she wouldn't try something so foolish; he'd hate to have to kill her.

The clock on the wall chimed, alerting him to the break of sunrise. He would try to get at least another hour's worth of rest in, and then he would began the preparations of moving Claire and himself to somewhere more remote.

Eyes as cold as steel closed and within a few minutes he was asleep once again.

...

A/N: Well...chapter four is done. I wanted to make it longer but due to some physical issues that have just resolved themself that were keeping me from getting this written for the past few days I decided to save the next part for the fifth chapter. I'm having alot of trouble with the fifth chapter's plotline because I want to introduce an antagonist to the story. I am not coming up with any valid ideas on my own though. So...a little poll for you my dear readers.

Who would you like to see as the villian?

Just let me know and I will work it in there.

Thanks guys!

By the way the word Suffoco means Choke in english.

Til next time! *waves*


	5. V Vigoratus Mihi

_Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy._

...

Vas Domus

V

Vigoratus Mihi

...

Days had trespassed into weeks and soon her injuries had fully healed. They had long since moved to his home in Colorado; one of many she was sure. She had not asked him to make her departure, as she was so sure she would have. She had no idea why she had stayed with him for this long but she supposed she had nowhere else to really go, so why not?

He had not asked her to leave either.

He had finally explained what had happened to him, although the word 'explained' she felt didn't describe the way he had told her.

In short, Albert Wesker was now human.

That was all she needed to know, she supposed.

It certainly explained alot, she realized, his more mild attitude and the changing of his features could all be explained through that one simple statement.

At first she didn't know if she could believe him, the fact alone sent her reeling and her mind had problems processing everything.

Then again she hadn't been of the most sound mind lately, lack of alcohol and strange company made sure of that.

She hadn't had a drop of the stuff for nearly three weeks, which had been incredibly difficult on her mind and body for the first two weeks or so.

Many nights of alcohol withdrawn symptoms had ensured her sleeping habits to be very erratic and when she did sleep it was fitful and complete with nightmares.

One night she could remember most vividly and as she sat at his kitchen table, in his very un-home like mansion, it came fresh in her mind again.

_She bolted upright in bed, the tears falling faster than she could catch them, a strangled cry ripping from her throat and she wrapped her arms around herself in a self soothing manner. Her sobs choked her as she desperately tried to block out the vivid images of what was one of her worst nightmares yet. This one involved Steve, a very sore subject for her even still, and it shook her to her very core. Slowly her door opened, and he stepped inside of her room. His voice was soothing as he asked her if she was alright, and if she needed something to help her sleep better he would give it to her. In response she merely shook her head, auburn locks falling into her eyes. He turned to leave but inwardly she was begging him not to._

_"C-could..you stay...just for a few moments?" Her voice cracked and he merely nodded, his blue eyes flashing in the light of the moonlight from the window. He sat down on her bed, just a few inches from her. She could feel that he wasn't entirely comfortable with being there, human compassion, she knew, was something very foreign to him._

_But she knew that at that moment, he was all she had._

_How ironic it all was, she thought, the one person who had basically destroyed her life was the one that she had been clinging to in some childish way the last several days. He asked her if she wanted to talk about it, in that voice that clearly noted that he did not in fact want her to. She said no, and soon they had drifted back into silence._

_"I'm sorry, Miss Redfield." Her head snapped in his direction, confusion etched on her soft features. He was apologizing? But why?_

_She wanted to slap herself, he had a million things to be sorry for. She wondered if he really was sorry. _

_"I...forgive you, Wesker."_

_He nodded, and in that moment she felt unnaturally close to him. This man, her enemy, was trying in his own way to comfort her. He had done some horrible things to her, but not all of them were directly meant to harm her right? And even though he had tried, he was not the one who killed Chris._

_Her eyes raked over him and she could feel his body heat seeping into her with their close proximity. Unknowingly she scooted just a bit closer to share in some of his warmth, her own body craving some sort of comfort. Their arms brushed against eachother and wave of electricity passed through her at this touch. _

_He had very strong looking arms, arms that looked as if they could hold a woman in just the right way. His hands were large and she figured that nearly both of her hands could fit into just one of his, and his eyes were nothing short of breathtaking, their cold grey-blue hue never failed to make her heart beat just a little bit faster._

_She couldn't lie to herself, as a woman she was attracted to Wesker, and there was no reason not to be. He was a very good looking man, this much she had really always agreed with._

_Of course as a survivor of the most devastating American bioterrorism incident, a citizen, and a sister, thinking of him in such a way had felt like treason in it's most basic form. _

_Now however, she was not so sure..._

_She needed to say something, anything, to break this silence. She wanted him to talk to her, really talk to her and she knew that if she was to recieve that the first step was for her to talk to him first._

_She took a deep breath and decided to approach a safe and lighthearted topic. That was always the best way to begin._

_"Do you like animals?" _

_His head turned to look at her with a look of what couldn't be anything but confusion on his face, "Animals?"_

_"Yes," She smiled softly, the closest thing she had been able to muster up to a real smile in so very long, "I love animals. What's your favorite?"_

_He was silent for a few moments as if he was mentally rehearsing what he was going to say in response; either that or he was ignoring her. She held her breath during this time, concerned that she had said something inexorably stupid and had prevented him from speaking to her ever again._

_"I like cats." _

_Claire let out her deep breath and smiled again._

_"Me too!" _

They hadn't stayed up all night talking like two old best friends having been reunited, and he wound up returning to his room within the next ten minutes but it was alright.

They were taking a step in the right direction.

She absently stirred her beverage with her spoon, the effects of boredom and sheer cabin fever from being house-bound for weeks starting to really bother her. Chris had once called her a wild falcon speaking in reference to the fact that she was anything but a homebody, preferring to be out and about then at home.

Claire needed to fly free.

Unbelievably Wesker seemed to be kind of the opposite, while she was itching to get out and do _anything _he seemed to prefer staying at the house, in his office, working on things which she assumed were work related and probably illegal.

Virus or no virus, he was still Wesker; she was sure he was still doing at least part of the things he had done before. No fervent hoping and wishing would change him.

He was different, that much was for certain, his usual hostility and arrogance was replaced with a silent agreement that as long as she treated him with respect he would do the the same for her, something she appreciated in full.

Tapping her foot eagerly she decided it would do her some good to go for a walk or something, and she stood and hurried up the large staircase up to her room. She changed into a pair of yoga pants and a black tanktop, she grabbed her red jacket off of the large comfortable reading chair in the corner and pulled on a pair of black running shoes, all compliments of Wesker.

At first she had been very unrecipient of him purchasing her new clothes but he had won that arguement with the fact that she needed clothes in order to be seen in public.

Damn him and his very valid points.

She had finally accepted, begrudgingly, but retorted that she drew the line at clothes and he was not to buy her anything else, and she would get a job in order to buy herself her own staples and items.

So in turn, he offered her a job.

At first she had refused that too, but when she realized that they were basically in the middle of nowhere, set in in the Colorado Rockies and that she had no mode of transportation and was still recovering with her injuries, job searching would be quite difficult for some time.

So she had accepted his job offer, exclaiming that she would only work for room and board and food. Nothing more.

She was to be in charge of the upkeep of the house and to make meals and the like. Sometimes when he was out, she would take calls from what she assumed were his "customers" usually all looking for him by some different name. At first she had been confused, wondering why he had so many different alter egos, but then it clicked and she put the pieces together.

He was, after all, a very wanted man.

Sometimes, however, a call or two would come in and the caller would be in fact looking for Albert Wesker. Those calls he usually took in the privacy of his office, away from her prying ears.

She wouldn't lie, she was very curious as to what he was up to, even without his virus he seemed to be a very wealthy man and she wondered just how much money he actually had.

The amount didn't truly matter to her but she was awfully worried about his "work".

He never gave any clues or anything, still being an extremely private man, but she hoped it wasn't some sort of terrible work like he did with Umbrella and the companies that had followed after it.

One could only hope.

She grabbed the spare house keys off of the rack in the kitchen and scribbled a hastily written note in case she hadn't returned before he came back from another one of his meetings, which she highly doubt she wouldn't, and took off running out of the front door like a bat out of hell.

For the first time in months she felt like herself again, the wind flowing through her hair making her feel as free as she had longed for for so long.

With a small smile and a deep breath of the cold, crisp mountain air she realized that she had only Albert Wesker to thank for that.

She felt as if she owed him something in return but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what he would want.

Finally, as if a lightbulb had went off in her head, she realized exactly what she wanted to do as her own personal thank you. A plan in motion, she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face as she made another lap around the property and began to make her way back to the house to begin working.

...

Wesker sat in the large lobby outside of the conference room of his newest prospective buyers, the new pharmaceutical company Revive Industries. Surprisingly, none of them knew who he was under his cleverly assumed guise of Thomas Richardson. He had barely had to change his appearance, forgoing his sunglasses for regular reading frames and leaving his all black attire at home was the most major change save for growing his hair out a bit.

"Mr. Richardson?" He looked towards the secretary who was making doe eyes at him from her desk-he had always recieved that response from women who didn't know him better-and he merely nodded in return.

"Yes, Miss?" He responded, his eyes paying more attention to the files on her desk than to her, but she didn't seem to mind, a flirty pout and a pink twinge on her cheeks showed that she was clearly checking him out unabashedly, and had been since he had walked into the lobby and sat down waiting on his appointment. She leaned forward in a way that he presumed she thought provocative, emphasizing her cleavage that was already far too ample for him to be interested in, and spoke in a slightly sexy voice.

"Mr. Anderson and Mr. Guile will be seeing you now." He stood with a small 'thank you' and strode into the large double doors of the conference room. There were a few men in suits settled at the table, beside the owners of the company.

James Anderson was the first to stand and extended his hand to Wesker, who shook it with only the slightest of delay. He was a short and stocky man, his broad smile clearly read to Wesker the complete and total ignorance as to the kind of business he was dealing with, but the beady glitter in his eyes showed it all.

Greed.

Money could make people do things that they would never normally do, but sometimes for the correct number of zeroes morality could become the last thing on their mind.

That's what was exactly the first thing that Wesker saw when looking at James Anderson.

"Mr. Richardson, we are so glad to finally meet you. I am Jim Anderson and this is my partner Timothy Guile." His voice was somewhat nasally and his hair was slicked back in a vain effort to attempt to cover his bald spot. His pinstripe suit was far too tight for his short, stubby frame and the buttons on the jacket looked as if they were going to fly off and hit someone square in the eye.

Instantly Wesker disliked this man.

Finally Guile stood to greet Wesker with nary a smile on his face; he seemed very displeased to have him in their office with what the nature of business was. He was tall, almost as tall as himself, and was sporting a black short cropped ponytail and pair of grey slacks topped with a blue long-sleeved oxford. Over that he wore a white lab coat that seemed far too designer to actually have been used.

He must have many more in his closet.

Wesker didn't know why it unnerved him but when he was working for Umbrella he himself only had one lab coat, as did Birkin. They even had a discussion about it once.

_"You know, Al, when a scientist has more than one or two lab coats it's usually a good sign that he's in this profession for the glory or the money and not the purpose."_

At the time, in their youth, Wesker had wondered why Will had felt the need to tell him what seemed like that useless bit of information but now he was glad he had. It made sense, he supposed, when one spent as much time as Wesker and Birkin had immersed in their work, that didn't leave a whole lot of time to buy many things or keep themselves looking pristine all of the time.

He could tell that he wasn't really serious about his work as head researcher here, and this company seemed to have no interest in providing wholesome products for their consumers.

The exact same underhanded business that Umbrella had been, only much worse. These two clearly had no idea as to what they were doing.

"Nice to meet you both." Wesker replied, his voice full of false sincerity.

"Can my assistant get you anything? Perhaps some coffee or-" Anderson began, clearly trying to roll out the welcome mat in an effort to make Wesker his very own welcome mat.

"With all due respect, Jim. I think it's best we get started." Guile cut him off, returning to his seat and cutting his partner a look that clearly said 'Let's get this over with'.

"Of course. Have a seat Mr. Richardson."

...

She hummed about the kitchen, shuffling from one pot to the other in preparation of what would be one of her finest meals to date. Checking to make sure the roast was cooking properly, she pulled a chunk out of the pot and tasted it, letting a little pleasure moan out at the sheer perfection of the meat. She hopped up on the counter and decided to turn on the television that Wesker had kept in the kitchen-he really had covered all his bases in the development of this spacious house, even if most of the stuff looked like it had never been used-and flicked the channel to the news.

_"In other news, the new pharmaceutical company Revive has risen in the stocks today. When asked about their newfound and quick success the CEO of the company Jim Anderson merely said that their main concern was to 'become a company based on the well-being and safety of human life'"_

Claire scoffed, they sounded just like Umbrella. She supposed she shouldn't be so hasty to judge though, she was sure that not every company had been like Umbrella or Tricell.

As jaded as she was, she wasn't completely without faith, not anymore anyway.

The egg timer she had set went off with a buzz, and she hurried over to the burners to remove her perfect meal.

According to Chris, a home-cooked pot roast and au gratin potatoes had been Wesker's one food weakness back in the day, a bit of information that she was hoping rang true now even still.

The best way to a man's heart was through his stomach.

She laughed as an image of Wesker chowing down on a buffet with a big smile on his face a hearts in his eyes popped unwarned into her head.

Carrying the pots into the dining room she began to set the table, and even had managed to find a nice couple of candles to accent the room. Dinner, wine and dessert sat on the perfect table in a vision of what appeared to be a romantic meal for two.

That was when Claire had realized what she had done, and what he might have thought the implications of it were.

Her eyes grew wide; she had only been trying to thank him but now she had gone and overdid it and now he was going to think she was trying to seduce him. In a hurry she went to take some of the elegance away but before she could get anything off the table, his presence was behind her and she felt incredibly nervous. His low accent echoed off the walls as he spoke, causing a shiver of several different origins to travel through her body.

"What's all this?"

Claire turned a bit and-sweating more than she should have been, she blamed it on the heat of cooking-put on her best smile.

"Oh, this? Ya know...I was just out for a run earlier and I couldn't help but wonder how I could..you know...thank you for helping me out." She was beginning to ramble and she knew it but found she couldn't surpress it in his presence. He simply made her nervous as he should have.

It was all for the wrong reasons though.

"So. Thank you! I hope you like it, I don't think the meat came out exactly the way I wanted it to-"

"Claire..."

"-but the potatoes I thought were fantastic, I used red skins, they are my favorite. I hope you don't mind. I can make some more with other potatoes if you want-"

"Claire."

"-and you have to try my pie, it's simply to die for and I...huh?"

"It looks wonderful. Will you join me?" His voice was like silk over a fire, and she felt her knees begin to wobble in such a way that her legs may very well give out at any minute if she didn't sit down.

"O-Of course, just...let me run upstairs and get cleaned up. I'll be right back."

He nodded, a small smile gracing his handsome features and she turned and headed for the stairs.

She prayed to some unknown force that he hadn't noticed the bounce in her step.

...

A/N: Well, well, well. Now we are getting somewhere eh? Wesker is finally beginning to come out of his shell and Claire is starting to regain some of her cheerfulness again. I really enjoyed writing this chapter and hoped you enjoyed reading it.

Vigoratus Mihi translates to Heal Me. Which is exactly what is beginning to happen!

Thanks for reading and until next time!


	6. VI Mutare

_Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy._

...

Vas Domus

VI

Mutare

...

Dinner with Wesker had been wonderful; good conversation, good food and surprisingly good company had ensured that the few hours spent at the meal were worth the work it took to cook it.

She also noticed something as well.

Albert Wesker had a tendency to loosen up a bit with a few glasses of wine, something she never would have guessed. He didn't seem much like a drinker to her but in some way she was grateful he had had a few, it had ensured that he wouldn't be completely silent the entire time. She sat at her vanity, running her hairbrush through her auburn tinted strands and her mind traveled back to a time not even two hours ago.

_She brought her hand up to cover her mouth as a laugh rang out through the dining room. Bringing her wine glass up to her lips she took another sip as he continued his story, pouring himself yet another glass of the sweet red wine she had selected._

_"So, Will comes out to the lab, his entire face covered in black ink, and the entire medical team is laughing and all he says is, 'Does anyone have a towel?' with the most straight face I had ever seen on him." Claire let out another amused laugh and then much to her surprise Wesker did something that she had thought completely impossible._

_He laughed. Not a sneer or a smirk, an actual laugh. _

_Claire found that she wanted to know more about his relationship with the late doctor William Birkin, not only for the sake of talking with him more but also because she had dearly missed Sherry, who last she heard was living with an aunt somewhere in Texas._

_"It sounds like you two were good friends. What was he like?" She asked, her hand coming up to rest under her chin, elbow supporting it on the table as she peered at him from behind her glass. She watched as his eyes darkened a bit in memory, as if he was reaching back to a very far away place that was riddled with his own demons and problems. _

_Wesker's own personal hell._

_"He was...devoted to his work, and often times he put that before many other things that should have been important." He replied and she could see his face soften a bit. They must have been very close indeed in order to cause such a reaction when he spoke about Birkin._

_"Like Sherry..." Claire's voice traveled softly across the table, and she really hadn't meant for him to hear it but he had and he responded none the less._

_"Yes. Like Sherry."_

_"But..." Claire looked at him for reassurance, "He loved her."_

_"Yes, yes he did."_

Despite that one little brief period the rest of the evening had been quite full of mirth, even though it still shocked the hell out of her. It seemed that even the hard-hearted Albert Wesker knew how to loosen up and fun afterall. Claire put down the hairbrush and made her way to her bed, pulling back the covers and sliding between the sheets. She laid there for awhile, her mind fixated on only one person.

Why had she suddenly been thinking about him so much? She figured that it was because of this strange cameraderie they seemed to have established. Before tonight she didn't know what she saw him as; he wasn't her captor since he hadn't ever locked her up or prevented her from leaving, and he hadn't shown any displays of wanting to hurt her in anyway, so what was he?

She tossed over on her side the cold draft blowing through the window raising goosebumps on her bare arms and legs but she made no move to close it. All she wanted to do was lay there and stare at the moon high above the mountain tops. She wondered if Wesker ever did things like skygazing but she decided that even still he couldn't be bothered for something so meaningless.

Soon the sound of the wind and the soft comforting light of the moon had lulled her to a deep and dreamless sleep.

...

His hand clutched his chest and his teeth were grit tightly in order to prevent screaming out. At least he was expecting it now, the pain came every night, and on some nights even more than once.

Visions of black kept flooding his brain and he was dizzy and weak; when he could see it was nothing more than splotches floating in front of his eyes. Nausea was twisting his stomach and his body was drenched in sweat. A fiery rage gripped him and without thinking he brought his hand up to slam it into the countertop in the kitchen, not realizing that he had cracked it's marble surface. Blood was flowing down his arms and suddenly that wave of nausea was too much and he found himself in the bathroom, doubled over the toilet, sick splashing into the water. He stayed there for awhile, pleading for the pain to subside and finally it did. Once he thought it was safe to stand, he rose shakily to his feet and grabbed onto the sink for leverage.

The cool water over his face wasn't as cold as it should have been but he welcomed it nonetheless. He looked up, his mirror reflection staring back at him and he furrowed his eyes in confusion.

He could see the network of veins under his skin, like bright blue vines against a white backdrop. They weren't bulging or poking out but they were quite visible along his neck and jaw. Leaning in closer to the glass he could see that a small splotch of orange had formed right near his pupil, and it seemed like it was spreading outward. His internal confusion was compounded with anxiety, and he simply ignored it, knowing full well that he couldn't go to any hospital.

A loud scoff bounced off the empty bathroom walls. He didn't need a hospital, he'd be just fine, he was still-as he had reminded himself multiple times-the most competent medical proffessional he knew. He swung open the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of aspirin, popping the cap and taking at least six pills dry. It was probably a bit too much but the pounding in his head was just enough to make him want to slam his head repeatedly into the wall just to make it stop. Shutting off the light, he walked out of the bathroom and down to the hall to his room to get some rest. Claire's door was still open and he stopped to close it but the image of her sleeping visage kept him glued to the spot.

With the exception of the moonlight gleaming from the open windows the room was pitch dark, but the moon was full and bright that evening so he could see her features quite well. His eyes traveled up her legs, long smooth cream colored legs that were being hugged tightly by a pair of red boy shorts. The curvature of her behind was poking out from under the hem of her shorts, creating a soft crevice below the mound of flesh. Higher up, her tight stomach was exposed, the curve of her hip completing the image. The tanktop she wore was low cut at the top and an ample amount of decolletage was peeking out leading up to a perfectly long neck.

With every moment he stood there the more he could feel his normally perfect control slipping away. The look on her face was nothing if not beautiful, her long dark lashes dusting slightly pinkened cheeks and unconciously he his bit his lip. Suddenly his hands itched to memorize every curve of her soft body by heart, his lips urged to taste her skin. He felt like he desperately needed to hear her voice moan in response to his flesh against hers. Her nails into his back as he entered her, her hair splayed across his pillow as he claimed her. He wanted her, wanted to feel her, wanted to _fuck_ her until neither of them could move.

A primal moan filled his throat and suddenly he felt different, more powerful. An animalistic snarl broke from his throat and he strode over to her bedside, reaching his hand out to her face as if to touch her.

His fingertips ghosted over her face and it was all he had to not tear those offending garments off of her and ravish her body until she was begging and crying for him to stop. His flesh felt like it was on fire and it literally burned with the need to rut like a wild animal.

He would have her at that very moment.

Just before he could do anything she turned over on to her other side, a soft sigh of pleasant contentment permeating the air around them, and he blinked.

In a sheer second that raw animalistic nature dissipated leaving behind in it's wake a confusion he had never felt before. It was quite obvious he was attracted to her but...

The things he had wanted to do minutes ago did not stem from simply being attracted to someone.

Wesker stole one last look at her and turned softly on his heel, the thought of what he was about to do shocking him. He had almost lost all control of himself something that had never happened to him. He always had SOME control.

Always the gentleman, he shut her door softly but found himself unable to walk away from her completely.

His voice was deep and gravelly as he spoke to the door before walking away.

"What are you doing to me, Claire?"

...

A pair of long tanned legs crossed and uncrossed themselves from underneath a rich mahogany desk in a fit of impatience. A set of perfectly manicured hands clicked their fingernails against a chair arm in frustration. Perfectly lined lips were pursed in anger, and the owner of these assets brought her arms across her chest as her deep brown eyes scrutinized the four men who stood before her.

Excella Gionne was pissed off.

"What do you mean he's still alive?" Her voice trembled in anger and if one were paying enough attention they may be able to see the man on the very end jump just a bit. This one couldn't be much older than the legal age of consent and from his constantly jumpy nature it was very clear that he hadn't been in this line of work long.

Excella eyes narrowed into slits, "Well? I'm waiting for one of you complete and total wastes of space to answer me, but all you seem capable of doing is standing there like idiots!"

The man on the very left finally took the initiative to speak. His clothes were somewhat different than the other three, and the specialized Tricell arm band on his bicep identified him as the head of security to Excella herself.

"The suspect was spotted by one of our security cameras near our Colorado facility four days ago and our team of analysts have confirmed that it is indeed Albert Wesker." His voice was hard and never wavered, but that was to be expected. Hard training like the one that Tricell put their security squad through was capable of turning even the most sentimental man in an ice cube.

"And you are absolutely sure it's him?" Excella was slightly more calm but not by much. The sheer idea was simply impossible. Unbelievable. She had heard the news herself of _him_ getting blown to pieces by that Redfield man and his partner, and inside of a volcano none the less.

"If you would like to see the security footage though I will have it brought to you, but they are 99 percent sure that it's him."

Excella rolled her eyes in that over-exaggerated, spoiled rich girl way she had perfected so well, "Well of course I want to see the footage! Why haven't you already done that?" Her shrill voice was sharp and the security guards left without so much a word. She leaned back in her chair, shaking her head and muttering curses under her breath.

Since the accident a few years ago she had been even more hot tempered and difficult to cater to than before. They had pulled her half dead body off the shore of some remote island just south of Africa and it had taken the most expensive and qualified team of reconstructive surgeons to repair the damage that had been done. Most of her face had been spared somehow and with the exception of the thin pale scar that ran the length of her jaw, her beauty was still nearly unmatchable. Her body on the other hand was a different story.

She had lost the use of her legs for nearly a year and had to undergo difficult rehabilitation to even walk again. She could walk perfectly fine now but the most devastating thing to her had been the near loss of her livelihood.

Her breasts.

The mutation had basically ripped her entire chest to shreds, and alot of skin had been missing when they found her. Months of rejected skin grafts had the doctors arguing with her that it simply couldn't be repaired but in her selfish nature to be beautiful again she hadn't taken "No" for an answer.

After doing some tissue analysis of her own with some of the employees in her company she had found the perfect match, a young lab technician by the name of Courtney Guillard.

Excella had staged an accident in the lab she worked in for the sole purpose of murdering the girl with her skin spared. No one save for her own personal guard had known the truth and the family had approved of the skin transplant after the hefty monetary reimbursement and gift baskets that Excella had sent them for their loss. The skin graft took and a few months after that she had implants put in to complete the transition.

Now her body was almost as perfect as it had been before she had mutated that one fateful night. The team of surgeons, scientists and doctors had claimed that she should have been happy to be alive and Uroboros free, but that had simply not been good enough for her.

What Excella Gionne wanted she would get and there was no limit to how far she would go to get it.

And right now, as she dug her perfect manicure into her hands, what she wanted was Albert Wesker's head mounted on her office wall.

...

A/N: Oh I'm so sorry this took so long to get up but this chapter has been giving me hell...anywho..The plot begins to thicken it does! Let us watch as other things unfold and more stuff happens! Yay for being vague. Once again thanks loads for the reads and reviews and go on and check out my newest slooooow side work in progress, Natural Selection! Til next time!


	7. VII Vobis

_Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy._

_A/N: As a warning I figured I would write this firsthand. There is quite a bit of fluff in this chapter as sort of a prelude to the dark stuff that will follow in the next chapter, so if you don't like the fluffy goodness-which you know you do, dun lie!-then I suppose you can skip those parts. I'll just write it here since I am already up here lol, Vobis means "you" or "for you" either or..Latin is tricky..also since I left it out, Mutare means "change" so sorry about that._

...

Vas Domus

VII

Vobis

...

The mall was incredibly busy this time of year, people happily strolling through stores and shops with friends and family looking for the perfect gifts to express their love and adoration. This cheer was infectious and Claire soon couldn't prevent the smile that had settled on her face. It had been nearly four months since she had decided to stay with Wesker that night after he had rescued her, and she was truly the happiest she had been in a long time. It had been somewhat difficult for the longest time to warm up to him but after that night they had that wonderful dinner together they began to spend more time with eachother. She would cook him dinner every night and every night he would her to join him and they would talk about anything they could. She'd ask him about work, and even though the answers he gave were vague most times they were never cold or foreboding. Claire bounced from store to store, humming the merry Christmas tune that was being played on the loud speaker throughout the shopping mall. The smell of cinnamon and apples and pine filled the shops and the warm air made her feel cozy and safe. There were two reasons why she was at the mall on this cold Tuesday; the first was to buy Wesker a gift for Christmas but the other was to test out the early Christmas gift he had surprised her with a few days before.

_The fireplace crackled happily and she was settled in the large leather armchair in the living room. She was pleased that Wesker had let her use it, and she had certainly been right about her assumption that it brought a certain hominess to their house._

_Their house._

_She repeated the words in her head, a warmth flooding her heart in a way that she found she didn't dislike. A smile spread across her face and she returned her attentions to the book in her lap. All she could think about was him though and even though he had never been flirtatious or had come on to her it was obvious that there was an attraction there. Neither of them had acted on it brushing it aside as if it was all a fluke, but Claire had to wonder if it really was there or if she had been imagining it._

_There were signs sure, certain notions that could be percieved as attraction-small personal smiles and hand placements on the small of her back as he passed her in the hallway,the way his fingers lingered on hers longer than necessary when passing something to her-but that could all just be speculation._

_He could see her as nothing but a friend or even just a girl he had been helping back up on her feet. Perhaps it was neither of those. Perhaps he felt regret for what he had done to her brother and his teammates and he felt that this way he could redeem himself._

_She didn't like to think it was that though._

_Whatever it was it revealed to her a side of him that she was sure many people hadn't ever seen, if anyone but her at all. The thought of Albert Wesker smiling over dinner with a friend and exchanging personal stories was sometimes mind blowing in itself, but it fit._

_It fit so well that sometimes she had to remind herself of who he was and what he had done, the kind of person he had been in the past. When she did though, it was like it never mattered much even though it really should have. He had been responsible for hundreds of thousands and possibly millions of deaths and had he succeeded he could have-would have-destroyed the entire world. He had lead his own team, the people he had worked alongside and nearly lived with for years, into a mansion in order to collect battle data for the tyrant and ending many of their lives in the process. He had done horrible, terrible things, but she didn't like to think about it. She knew she was in serious denial but that couldn't have been him. This gentlemanly, kind man she knew now could never have been that cold and evil person he was then._

_Denial thy name is Claire._

_The sound of the front door opening alerted her that he was home from another business meeting early and she couldn't help the increased speed of her heart as she heard him remove his coat and shake the snow off of it. He entered the living room, and leaned against the archway that was erected above the two steps that led to the sitting area._

_"How was work?" She asked, marking the page in her book and closing it succinctly. He always had her full attention whether he knew or it or even wanted it._

_"It was just fine. Those idiots that run the place couldn't be more incompetent if they tried but all in all the transaction went well. How was your day?" His silky voice rose over the crackle of the fire and she found herself utterly pleased with the fact that he was actually interested in her day, however boring it may be._

_"I cleaned the toilets and made cookies." She laughed and added, "Don't worry. I washed my hands first." Earning a small but genuine chuckle from her male counterpart._

_"Cookies hm? Seems you're outdoing yourself, Claire."_

_"It was nothing. I just love the holiday season and I love to bake so it kind of works together. Would you like one?" She slid her legs off the side of the chair, her long ivory sweater and leggings contrasting nicely with the dark black of the leather upholstery. She truly loved that chair and had spent quite a bit time in it when he was away, and as much as it bothered her to admit it, it offered the best view of the front door._

_"Perhaps in a moment. I have something I want to show you first." His long legs made short work of striding to her side. He walked behind her and her head looked up to see what he was up to. She stayed silent as he removed a thin black scarf from his pocket and tied it around her head, covering her eyes. Claire giggled like a child that was opening her very first birthday gift._

_"What are you up to?" She asked but was silenced as his warm fingers unintentionally brushed the back of her neck, and a wave of electricity shot through her body at the feel of his touch. She decided that if a simple meaningless touch could make her feel that way then it had truly been too long since she had been with a man, or at least a man she actually wanted to be with._

_"Now, now, you don't want to ruin the surprise do you, dear heart?" If her resolve wasn't already crumbling, it certainly was with the mention of the nickname that he had only used on very few occasions._

_Before if he had called her that she would have wanted to rip his blonde head off and spit down his throat but now she could only wish that he would call her that more. It made her feel important. It made her feel as if she was special enough that he would dedicate a name just for her, even if he really hadn't._

_He was bringing out feelings in her that made her frightened and exhilirated at the same time, and as he took her hand to lead her to her "surprise" she found herself holding onto him a little tighter than she meant to. He didn't seem to notice and continued on._

_"Be careful for the steps here."_

_"Where are you taking me, sir?" She asked in a play-mocking sense and he let loose that warm chuckle that she was so fond of,"You'll see."_

_She laughed quietly and responded, "Well thanks to you, I can't see anything right now."_

_"Don't be so impatient Miss. Redfield. Patience is a virtue, dear."_

_"Alright, alright. Let's just get there quick before I fall and hurt myself. You know how clumsy I can be, Mr. Wesker." She played into his name game, but when he responded his voice seemed so close and her heart skipped more than a beat at his words._

_"And I would catch you if you did." She wondered if he knew the implications of his words and decided that he couldn't possibly have or he probably wouldn't have said it in the first place. He didn't seem like the kind of man who was big on open displays of affection or anything of the sort._

_'Not that he's attracted to you, Claire. He's just being courteous. Get a grip on yourself before you lose it.' A tiny voice echoed in her head and she outwardly sighed. Was it in disappointment? How far had she fallen when he was the one she wanted to be interested in her?_

_She shoved the thought away and held on to his hand as she heard him opening the front door._

_She felt the biting cold on her exposed cheeks and the snowflakes falling in her hair. The night air was crisp and filled with anticipation and she was pleased that Christmas was right around the corner. She wondered quietly how he celebrated the holiday season and decided that he probably worked straight through it; he was very dedicated to his work, whatever that was._

_She knew little about his current occupation but she knew that he was basically now an independent contractor who sold his goods to other big-wig companies. She could only fill in the blanks and assume that it was medical affiliated but she hoped against hope that he was making strange viruses in her lab below the house-she knew there was one there-and selling them off._

_Maybe he sold cures for diseases? Perhaps he sold his efforts to help starving children in foreign countries? She liked that idea much better. Albert Wesker the philanthropist, she liked the sound of that and then realized that maybe her denial was more deep rooted than she thought._

_But fantasy was so much nicer than reality and she had lived far too much reality for one lifetime; she deserved a little fluffy fantasy where everything was as she wanted it to be._

_Leaving her hand cold and empty he let go of her and she couldn't stop the pout that settled._

_"So, what exactly are you going to show me out here in the freezing snow?" Despite her words she had a broad grin on her face and seconds later his nimble fingers had undone the scarf and he let it fall around her neck._

_Claire's eyes were wide as she viewed the sight before her. There in the open garage parked right next to his Mercedes was a brand new Jaguar XKR. It was decked out with a matte finish crimson red paint job and all leather interior. Claire's mouth fell open and she looked to him with nothing short of surprise in her eyes. He took her hand once more and pressed the keys to her palm._

_"Y-You bought me a car. A-A Jaguar..You bought me a Jaguar." Her voice trembled and she had to fight back the tears that threatened to spill over._

_"Merry Christmas, dear heart." His voice was warm, wrapping around her heart tighter than any blanket. She wanted to argue, to tell him that she certainly could not and would not accept a nearly hundred thousand dollar vehicle as a Christmas present and a card would have done just nicely, thank you very much._

_But she was dumbstruck, so shocked with awe at what her brain was processing that all she did was fling her body towards him with tears in her eyes before she could stop herself and wrapped herself around him tightly. He seemed shocked stiffed for a moment but then let out one of his trademark chuckles and wrapped an arm around her, returning the hug._

_"Thank you...thank you so much. Nothing I can ever do will be enough to show you how much I appreciate everything you've done for me." Her breath was warm in his ear and she squeezed him tighter, breathing in his scent of aftershave and what always reminded her of fresh linens mixed with what could only be described as him._

Her heart tugged a bit at the memory as she continued her search for a perfect gift; and that's when it hit her like a rock to the face.

What do you buy for the man who could have anything he wanted?

There really was nothing that could ever amount to a car, especially not a Jaguar-which after a few days of not touching it he had eagerly encouraged her to take for a drive, and that little kitty purred better than she had hoped-and she suddenly found herself at a loss of what to do.

She plopped down on the bench and took a sip of the latte she had bought herself at the little coffee kiosk upstairs, watching people pass by. A little girl was jumping excitedly gripping her father's coat and he smiled down to her warmly as he wrapped his arm around a woman who she could assume was his wife. As heartwarming as that scene was she couldn't help but feel a bit dismayed by it.

The only thing in her life that she had ever truly wanted was walking right in front of her, and she doubted that she would ever have it.

A family. A loving husband, beautiful children and the life for her kids that she didn't really get growing up. That was not to say that Chris hadn't tried his hardest and done his best at raising her when her parents had died in that terrible accident, but there were times when she had been incredibly lonely. Her brother had been the best he could be but he just couldn't replace a mother.

Warm wetness flowed down her face and she quickly swiped it away, not even realizing that she had started crying. She absolutely hated crying and especially in a public place but it seemed that crying had been all she was doing lately.

She watched as the little girl and her parents walked and decided to continue searching for a gift for Wesker.

A little shop in the corner nestled between an antique shop and a pretzel stand caught her eye and suddenly she was filled with excitement as she realized the perfect gift to get him.

...

"As much as I appreciate the offer, Mr. Anderson, I'm afraid I will have to decline." Wesker leaned back against his office chair and cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder, typing out some notes on his computer.

_"This would be a huge event for you, Richardson. All of the biggest pharmaceutical companies will be there. Are you sure you can't cancel your plans?"_

Wesker's eyes rolled as he feigned disappointment; there was no place he'd rather not be than at some silly convention in France having to deal with these people more than necessary. He wasn't their employee, he was merely the go-to man for information and some much needed products they couldn't acquire.

"I'm afraid not. It's been planned for months. I'd hate to let anybody down."

Anderson seemed disappointed but Wesker knew it was only because he wanted to gloat to the other fat, useless lumps of CEOs about how his man was the best man, or something ridiculous like that. He couldn't feel even an ounce of sympathy for this man, not that he would anyway.

_"Well if you change your mind, the offer's on the table. I'll see you on Tuesday then."_

"Of course, Mr. Anderson. Thank you. Goodbye." He dropped the receiver on the cradle and leaned further back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his handsome features. Claire had been gone for quite some time and he wondered what she was up to. He couldn't lie to himself and say that he wasn't worried but he made no move to track her down, even if his hand was tracing the phone with the anticipation to call her and find out.

He had been quite pleased with her reaction to her gift and days later she had asked him why he had bought a Jaguar instead of something cheaper. He asked himself the same question and still hadn't come up with a good conclusion as to why. He argued with himself that she needed a way to get out of the house every now and then but that still didn't explain the extravagance of the gift. He then came up with an idea that he felt best summed it up completely.

Albert Wesker didn't do cheap.

It was the perfect excuse-because that's all it really was, an excuse-but he suspected that he had wanted to get her something that accented her true beauty. She looked wonderful in that car, it's sleekness accentuating her own and smoothing out her own rough areas.

And maybe he liked the idea of her being in something that he had picked out for her.

He rubbed his temples, the way he was feeling confusing him to the point of anger almost. How had she managed to get so deeply under his skin without doing anything at all? It wasn't as if he didn't have women practically falling at his feet as most men with good looks, money and power did, but maybe that was the reason.

Claire hadn't stayed there with him because of his money, or because he was handsome and she wasn't all over him like some annoying bug that he couldn't get rid of. All she had ever done was open up to him and the things she did she never expected anything in return for them.

That was what made her different. That was what made her...

_'Special?'_

He shook his head trying to clear it from all the confusing thoughts that had been plaguing him lately. Being around her...feeling this way...it was making him vulnerable and it made him feel weak, made him wonder exactly who he was anymore.

The hum of an engine pulled up into the drive and he had to hold himself still to stop from going down the stairs to meet her. How much longer could he pretend he felt nothing for her until he did something stupid?

The sound of the door opening and closing caught his attention and her voice traveled up the stairs, "Wesker? Are you home?"

He stood stretching his legs and walked to the door.

"One minute. Just finishing up a report." He called down to her, and he could hear the sound of pots and pans banging around in the kitchen before she responded.

"Okay! Don't take too long, I have something I want to give you."

So that's where she'd been, he mused locking up his office and descending the long stairwell, crossing the large living room to get to the kitchen.

"Good evening, Claire. Did you have a nice time out?" He asked, removing the chicken from the freezer and setting it out to defrost; he knew she loved it when he helped her do things like that and despite his uncomfortable feelings about being too close to her he was having problems keeping his distance.

Damn Redfields and their way of getting under his skin.

"Oh yes! Very much, thank you. Would you mind getting me the celery from the fridge? Thanks." He handed her the stalks and she began chopping them, "I'm sorry I stayed out so long but I was having problems finding something. How was your day?" She was turned with her back to him and had abandoned her long red coat at the door, leaving her clad in a tight wrap top and black skinny jeans with knee high black boots. He fought back the urge to touch the skin that was exposed just above her shoulderblade and sat down at the table in the kitchen, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

It was in their best interests that they didn't pursue whatever it was between them, and sometimes he found himself wondering if it had been a mistake that she was living here with him in the first place. He kept his feelings in check for the most time but sometime he would slip.

He just couldn't let that happen; he didn't want her mixed up with him and in his own selfish way he knew that she would make him weak. He was already weak enough.

"Rather uneventful. That lousy Anderson invited me to some ridiculous convention in Paris the day after Christmas. As if I would actually go."

Claire turned her head to face him, her big blue eyes piercing as if staring directly into his soul, and he had to stand firm and not turn away from her gaze, "Why wouldn't you? Are you busy that day?" She turned back to her chopping and dinner preperations and he popped more aspirin, the headache forming behind his eyes was starting to bother him. He noticed lately that bright light had been affecting him the way it used to before and he had to urge to grab a pair of sunglasses from his room and throw them on.

He had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on but common sense had eliminated that idea from his head.

It simply wasn't viable. He turned his attention back to Claire who was now looking at him worriedly, "Are you okay, Wesker? You look like you don't feel well. If you want to lie down I can come get you when dinner is ready." Damn her, always being so unselfish and caring. Sometimes when he thought about her clearly giving nature it made him sick, but he wondered if that was because he felt guilty for hurting her for all those years or if it was his natural adversion to her kind.

"I'll be fine. Just a little headache is all."

Suddenly the kitchen grew very quiet and he noticed that she had stopped cutting vegetables, finally after a moment she spoke, her voice quiet and unsure.

"A headache that lasts all the time?"

His eyes widened a fraction of an inch. So she had noticed that. Not that he was surprised, she was very intuitive.

"It's nothing to worry about, I can assure you."

She was silent for a moment more but had dropped the subject thankfully, "So why won't you go to that convention?"

"I'd rather not go there and see all of those corporate big-wigs strutting around like they are the cock of the block. It's not something on my immediate agenda, plus I have work I need to get done here." He scoffed and she made a little 'oh' sound and continued to cut up the vegetables and chicken for a pot of homemade soup.

"So, what was it that you wanted to give me?" He asked and immediately her head popped up as if she had forgotten, she quickly tossed the ingredients into the pot and put it on the stove to simmer and cook and ran off into the living room. When she came back she held a plain black box in her hand and she held it out to him silently, her hand shaking a bit as if she were nervous.

"A gift? Claire, didn't I tell you that I didn't want anything?" He admonished but he knew it was unfair and the look in her eyes told him so; he had after all surprised her with such a huge present that it would be common courtesy to get him something. He took the box and opened it carefully, almost shocked at what was inside.

It was an exact replica of the Samurai Edge that he had been so attached to during his S.T.A.R.S days; the only things missing were the actual S.T.A.R.S adornments. Other than that though, it was nostalgically the same. He picked it up, feeling the weight in his hand and it almost sucked him into a reverie but her voice broke his train of thought.

"I hope you like it, I wasn't sure if I had gotten the specifications right from memory when I was telling the shop how I wanted it. It's not completely custom made but they had one that I had fitted properly. Chris told me once how you favored the Edge to other handguns, and he said you had lost that one." Her voice was a bit unsure.

"It's perfect. Thank you, dearheart." He watched as her face softened and he placed the gun back in it's case, not wanting to dirty it or mark it up.

"Well I'm glad you like it." She went back to the pot on the stove and he watched her, taking in how truly beautiful she really was.

It was then that he knew, that she was indeed special and if circumstances were different he would show her exactly how much she was beginning to mean to him.

...

A/N: Phew! That's my longest chapter to date and all written within the span of 4 hours. Now I'm exhausted but I think that should tie you all over until I get the next angst filled chapter up. 2 chappies in less than one day! I'm on a roll son! Anyhow like I said it was pretty fluffy and a bit OOC over the line but I couldn't help it. I love these two and I needed something to soften the blow of what's going to happen next. It won't be pretty, trust me. Anyhow! Until next time dear readers!


	8. VIII Cor Atrum

_Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy._

A/N: Alrighty-yet another chapter, but I don't know there's something about Naoko Suki and Biohazard Queen, everytime they leave one of their wonderful reviews-or two haha-I instantly get the inspiration to crank out another one of these. It really is something, you guys and I have to say thank you both so much, your dedication to this story is essential to it's growth. That also goes for all my reviewers! Thanks so much everyone!

**Biohazard Queen-** Yes you are going to see periods of Claire and Wesker slipping into eachother but alot of the time he will attempt to pull back. Even as a human he still believes strong emotions like love to be somewhat ill and useless. She probably will not and in true Claire fashion try to stay by his side no matter what...until it becomes too much! Mwahahaaha okay not giving stuff away lol. Anyhow..As for what Wesker is going through...Well you'll have to wait and see! And yes, Excella was great and no she wasn't in the last chapter but she will be a huge part of this chapter. Also wow about the family coincidence haha XD if I could I'd change it but it might lead to some confusion. Plus Mr. Anderson plays a very small role.

**Naoko Suki-** Yeah I really could feel that last chapter as I was writing, usually I worry A LOT about my style of writing especially when I read other stories by some of the great writers on FF but that one I was pleased with. I just realize that writing doesn't come as naturally to me as maybe some others so I have to really work at it. Anyhow like I said to Bio-Queen-heh nicknames!-you will have to wait and see what happens to Wesker. ALL WILL BE REVEALED! kinda...lol. And yes Excella, I really am going to enjoy portraying her because as much as she has been through she's still the spoiled brat that will try to get her way, and the scars are there just not on her face.

So...on with the story!

...

Vas Domus

VIII

Cor Atrum

...

Christmas came and went and the episodes continued into the New Year, becoming more and more frequent and he found himself intentionally hiding from Claire so she wouldn't find out. Why he was hiding was still a mystery to him; a toss up between him putting her in danger and her simply seeing him in such a state.

Either way she couldn't know about what was going on although he was suspecting that she was beginning to figure out that something was wrong him. She always looked concerned when she saw him and she was always suggesting that he should lay down and get some rest, that he looked very pale and the like. He brushed it off everytime with the excuse that he was just tired from work and even though he knew she didn't accept it she let it go for that time.

Bunked up in his four poster he could feel himself becoming feverish and had stripped completely down to his boxer briefs and wrapped himself in his blankets in order to sweat it out. Soon he had drifted into a feverish sleep, a dream bordering on memory filling his mind.

_Red eyes followed her as she walked up the steps leading to the Ashford base, his hands clenched tight as he felt the urge to wrap them around her little neck and squeeze._

_Those Redfields were always putting their noses where it didn't belong and he was sick of it. He was going to kill this little girl and her oh-so brave brother if it killed him in the process. The boy that was with her could be no more than 17 or 18 and he had to suppress a dark chuckle, if that child was an attempt at a bodyguard then she truly had better be on her game tonight._

_"Oh Miss Redfield, you truly have no idea what's going to happen to you." His voice was low and quiet and soon he was gone into the darkness away from his target._

_Later that night when he approached her the startling look of confusion was exciting to him because he knew that she was like a fish out of water on his boat. She had no chance..._

_He approached her as she placed her hand on the door._

_"Greetings," His voice was full of mock-pleasantness and she slowly turned, look on her face, "You must be the lovely Claire Redfield."_

_She watched with eyebrows furrowed as he walked slowly up to her, his strides long but his motion slow._

_"Who are you?" _

_"Hmm. Let's just say I'm a ghost, coming back to haunt your," He paused for a moment before continuing clearly amused, "dear brother." _

_Claire's eyes narrowed into slits and her back bumped the door as she lost her balance for a moment._

_"Wesker?"_

_"It seems there's not much explaining to do, is there? I was the one who attacked this island," He mocked, his tone much like one that you would use when explaining something simple to a child, "Who would have thought that you would be hanging about..." _

_His dark chuckle rang through the open area, and she backed up as he neared her even closer._

_'Run, run, little kitty but you'll never get away.'_

_"All the better for me! Now that the cat dragged in this nice surprise, your ever so caring brother will definitely show up. I must thank you for being. Such. Good. Bait." Soon he was directly on her, just inches away, and she shrank back even further._

_"I-I don't know what went on between you two, but you have him all wrong. My brother is NOT the kind of person you think he is-" Suddenly his arm thrust forward and his hand was gripped around her neck and jaw, lifting her at least four inches off the ground and slinging her about as he spoke. Her moans of protest did nothing to stop him. He squeezed tighter and got directly in her ear, feeling her shiver from his close proximity._

_"I despise Chris." He spat the name like it was too filthy to even think about, and Claire turned her head, eyes narrow in the hatred that he fed off of. _

_"What are you gonna do to him?" She gasped with as much air as he'd allow her and then suddenly she was flying through the air and hit the stone pavement, her shoulder and back colliding into unforgiving cement. Then suddenly he was on her, his foot making contact with her shoulder hard and he laughed, taking such pleasure in injuring a Redfield._

_"Oh, how your brother would weep to see you die." He laughed, and her eyes grew wide. _

_A little beep came from the receiver in his ear and he stopped pressing down but kept his boot there, he turned his head to speak into it, his voice becoming all business._

_"What? What is it?...Alright, stay there. I'm coming." He lifted his foot off of her and heard her outward sigh of relief as he walked away. He clicked the reciever off and turned with his back to her, "It seems you may be of further use to me. I'm going to let you live...a little longer." He flashed her a tiny a smile and saw her shock as she stared at the red glimmer behind his sunglasses. _

_With that he leapt into the dropoff and landed on the ground, taking off with superhuman speed._

_'Until next time, Miss Redfield.'_

_Soon the scene was warped into a remote sand dune in Africa, and he wandered around, nearly naked, exhaustion and dehydration taking hold of his body. He couldn't remember how long he had been out there, must have been days but soon he couldn't handle it anymore and he collapsed, his bare knees burning in the hot sand. His front pitched forward and dry grains of sand were making their way into his mouth and getting stuck in the stubble on his face. His eyes closed for a minute before he heard someone calling his name. The voice was soft, sweet and concerned, and he felt rage and anger flare up inside of him._

_"No!" He tried to ignore her but she kept talking to him, that damned Redfield girl who had been haunting him since he had left her on that island with her brother. Her voice kept coming and he screwed his eyes shut in defiance, he wouldn't let her mock him. He wouldn't let her gain the satisfaction at seeing him like this._

_"Leave me alone..." He whispered into the sand, but to no avail, her voice was still calling out to him, mocking him, insulting him. He got to his feet, scrambling around maniacally, lashing out at nothing, screaming at the open air. He fell, and hit the sand again, crying out to nothing._

_"No! Go away!"_

_Anger had consumed him once more..._

...

She heard him shifting around restlessly from her room, his loud shuffling and groaning alarming her and waking her from her own sleep. She rose, pulling on her robe and slowly made her way to his room. She cracked open the door and saw him tossing around and getting caught in his sheets. Stepping inside slowly, she quietly clicked on his table lamp, noticing that he was drenched in sweat and his skin was heavily flushed. She placed her hand on his arm, almost wrenching back whenever she felt the sheer burning temperature of his skin, but instead she gave him a little shake, calling out his name to wake him.

"Wesker?"

He inched away from her and whimpered something but she tried again, this time all he did was moan some more incoherent words. Lightning flashed outside and thunder rumbled, strange that it would be raining when the weather was still cold enough to snow but she was only fixated on him.

"Wesker. Wesker wake up. You're having a-" His eyes snapped open, and she gasped as a reddish-orange ringed grey tone took place and suddenly his hand was on her throat, squeezing deftly, his teeth bared in anger. The lamp fell to the ground with a crash and soon he had her pinned against the wall, squeezing harder until she was sure she could feel her windpipe creak with exertion. He spoke, staring directly into her eyes as a tear slipped out of her own.

"You're going to pay for this, Redfield." His voice was distant and suddenly she felt the relief of his hand unclenching from her neck but soon he had thrown her on the bed and was directly on top of her.

She was frozen in fear, certain that he was going to kill her, but she wondered if he was even awake, his demeanor was so frightening, so unusually malicious.

"W-Wes-Argh!" She cried out as his hand collided with her face, pushing it into the bed and he laughed.

"Now's not the time to beg, Redfield. You thought you had me finished, thought you had me weak, but I'm not weak and I'll never fall to _you_." He pulled her arms above her head with only one of his hands, the other still shoving her face into his satin sheets. She whimpered as he pulled her arms harder and she felt as if he was going to yank them right out of the sockets.

He released her face and she could smell the antiseptic mouthwash on his breath as his lips were mere inches from hers, breathing like a bull.

"Wesker, please. I know this isn't you-You're hurting me! Please stop!" Her plea was on deaf ears and she knew it, she couldn't fight him, a mix of fear and the lack of will power combined with his suddenly increased strength keeping her subdued.

_'He's going to kill me, I know he is. He's lost it! Oh god, please let him snap out of it.'_

His response was merely a frightening smile that didn't reach his half opened eyes. He was still asleep, she realized, and she knew she had to wake him up. But how? She was trapped under his body weight and it was basically dead weight, heavy and unmoving. With a whimper she managed to free one of her knees and with a tiny apology she knew he wouldn't hear, thrust it into his groin. Almost immediately his eyes widened, the red tint fading rapidly and he cried out in pain, falling off of her and onto the bed beside her. She rubbed her throat gingerly and stretched her arms out. A moment passed and she realized just how close he had come to actually snuffing her life out.

"Claire...what exactly are you doing in my bed, and why do my genitals hurt?"

Slowly she turned her head to him, shock and fear registering. No words came to her lips, her throat was inexorably dry and she hurriedly sat up, fiddling with the strap on her tanktop.

She could feel his eyes burning into the back of her and she tried to figure out what she was going to tell him; he clearly couldn't recall.

"You were...having a sleeping fit, I came to wake you...up." She stuttered over the words and a long period of silence followed. When he finally did speak he stood to pull on his pants and his shirt, his voice unsure and almost pained.

"I hurt you."

Her reaction was instantaneous, her hands flying up for some unknown reason and she lied, "No! I'm fine. You were sleeping, you-" Her words were cut off as he exited the room but she called after him, following him out, "Where are you going?"

He didn't respond, grabbing his coat and throwing open the front door his footsteps fading in the darkness, the door slamming shut behind him.

She felt pain and the underlying terror from before grip her. What was becoming of him? Was the virus really gone or had it been lying dormant until his body became weak enough to take him back over?

A tear escaped her eyes and the room seemed colder than it had since they had first come here.

She never felt more alone.

...

Excella paced her office, replaying the footage over in her head. There was no doubt in her mind now that it was indeed him, no one else exuded that sheer presence, not even on tape. A mixture of excitement and anger took ahold of her and she seethed, digging her fingernails into her arm.

This man who had once been the object of her affections-however misguided they were-and had claimed to have secured her place in his 'new world' was the same man who had essentially turned her into an abomination and ruined her life.

When she had heard the news of his death she had been purely elated, believing that he had gotten what he had deserved, even if she hadn't given it to him.

But now, now he roamed the earth to do as he wished as she was lying in an intensive care unit for months, suffering with the loss of herself, and questioning if she would ever be normal again.

Eventually she was but that wasn't the point; he simply couldn't be allowed to skim through life doing terrible things with no one to answer to.

_'Terrible things to me, anyway.'_

She was selfish and she was needy, she only cared about herself and she certainly didn't mind him murdering and killing innocents as long as she wasn't one of them. This was a fact of herself that she ignored, another testament to her arrogance.

In Excella's eyes there was only one person who mattered: Excella, and anyone who tried to slight her would punished intensively. A knock behind her came and her accented voice rang through the room, the door being pushed open slowly.

"Ms. Gionne, I am glad to finally make your acquaintance." She turned and laid eyes on a very tall man who's accent and appearance clearly defined him as a Russian. She hated Russians, typically finding them deceitful and too cunning for their own good, but she would make an exception this time.

After all their goals were very similar.

"Mr. Vladimir," She held her hand out limply, as if expecting him to kiss the back of it and he did as was custom to his upbringing, "I see your flight was right on time. Do you have what I asked you to bring?"

His white hair trailed just below his jawline, and the scar on his face crinkled a bit as he spoke, clear blue eyes shining with a fake valiancy.

"Of course," He reached into his jacket and removed a small, plain USB flash drive, holding it in between his fingers as if it was a great piece of some intricate universal puzzle, "All the information you need to know is on this drive."

She brought her hand up to snatch it from him but he rose it from her reach and continued, "However, I think we should settle some sort of payment first. That would be wise."

Excella snorted and sat down at her desk, her very high slitted skirt showing an ample amount of leg that he couldn't help but be distracted by.

"The payment, Mr. Vladimir, is to see Albert Wesker dead for good. I would think," her voice brimming with indignancy, "that would be enough for you, considering your past experiences."

A humorless laugh rang forth from his thin lips and for a moment she considered having him removed from her office but he had what she needed and she couldn't let that slip by.

"If that were only the case, my lady, I could see to it myself. However," He strode to her side, running one long finger up her arm despite the clear look of disgust she shot him, "I have what you want, and I do believe that you will be quite interested at what is on this drive. You want him dead, I can help you, but nothing in this world is free."

"I don't fuck Russians."

His laugh boomed out and she rolled her brown eyes in clear irritation.

"Ms. Gionne, I do believe you have me all wrong. The type of payment I had in mind does not infer that. I was thinking something along the lines of monetary gain."

Instantly her hand was on a checkbook, "How much?"

"One hundred million, in cash." Excella nodded, she could certainly spare that kind of chump change, but the look in his eyes stated that he wasn't done with his conditions quite yet, "And-"

"And? You want more? You Russians are certainly greedy, aren't you. Well spit it out Mr. Vladimir, I haven't got all day to sit here and play games with you." She said hurriedly, even though she was the one who cut him off in the first place.

His eyes shone with excitement and he had a creepy look of orgasmic pleasure on his face, and her own face crinkled in a look of disgust as he spoke.

"When we obtain him, I want to be the one who breaks him. I want to be the one who makes him beg for my mercy. I want to be the one who completely destroys him from the inside out and when I am done, the only thing that will be left of him will be a broken husk of a _'god'," _He snorted the word as if it were the absolute last thing he would associate Albert Wesker with, "and the dried tears on his sniveling face."

Excella pondered this for a moment, "Fair enough." She just wanted his head, that was all.

"And I want that girl he's been with."

Her head snapped up at this, coffee colored eyes filled with jealousy, "Girl? What girl?"

Sergei laughed again, this time at her expense and she narrowed her eyes. She did not like being toyed with, especially by some no good Russian.

"You will see, Ms. Gionne. I want that money wired to my account by noon, then I will have one of men deliver this to you." He held up the USB drive, before opening his coat to slide it back into his inside pocket. Before he could even get around to that however, she had already walked to a large vault hidden behind a huge portrait of her father and began to put in the combination.

When she returned she was carrying what appeared to be duralumin case and she placed it on the desk in front of him, popping it open.

The contents inside revealed exactly one hundred million dollars in unmarked hundred dollar bills.

"You will find it's all there," She huffed and reminded herself to have the vault combination changed, she knew how sneaky his kind were. He picked through the stacks, halfheartedly counting and when he was done he laid the flash drive on her desk in front of her.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Gionne," He shut the case and picked it up, "I do hope we'll be seeing eachother real soon."

Excella once again rolled her eyes, irritation with this man clearly showing, "Just have your men meet mine at the designated coordinates. I want Albert by midnight tomorrow."

He nodded and walked out of her office, and when she was alone she uncapped the flash drive and inserted it into her personal computer.

Minutes passed and as she read, a broad smile had taken her face, the information she was reading couldn't have possibly been any better news. Her cold and malicious laugh rang out through the office, and she spoke.

"Oh, Albert, you can ensure that we will be seeing eachother again, very, very soon."

...

She sat huddled up on the couch, eyes drooping down in exhaustion and she had to resist the urge to rest her head for just a few moments. Hour had come and gone since he had left and she had no idea where he had gone but she wanted to make sure she was awake when he came back. She had to explain what had happened earlier that night, and she couldn't risk him leaving again while she was asleep. Another half an hour passed and she found herself dozing lightly on the arm of the sofa, the violent bruises finally forming on her neck and arms, but she hadn't noticed.

Finally the lock falling into the tumblers woke her and she stood hurriedly, going to meet him in the foyer. Her eyes scrutinized his face as he entered the house, the smell of whiskey quite prominent on him, swirling in a haze with his usual scent.

"Have you been drinking?" She asked as he somewhat staggered past her but his demeanor was mostly the same. She had a feeling that he could drink himself to severely inebriated and he'd still be almost the same as always. He pushed past her and attempted to go up the stairs but her shaking hand reached out to grab his forearm.

A deep sigh exuded from him and he stopped, even though he could have just shrugged her off. He could sense her fear and it roused a mixture of emotions; shame, guilt, excitement.

"Wesker...we need to talk about earlier."

He didn't turn to meet her gaze when she spoke but he didn't move to walk away either so she took that as a sign to continue.

"Before...in your room, I know you couldn't control what was happening. I...I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I know you aren't that kind of person anymore-" As soon as the words left her mouth an angry growl left his and he grabbed the decorative lamp that was sitting on the table next to the door in the foyer and he threw it past her head and into a wall. In a flash she was pinned to the wall, and he threw a punch into it beside her, crumbling the brick much to her fright and surprise.

"Do _not_ attempt to tell me what kind of person I am, Miss Redfield. Do not make the mistake of thinking that you know me, when you are far too ignorant to know _anything _about me."

The fear in her eyes was growing at an alarming rate but instead of being irritated with himself for scaring her he felt liberated. He could see himself in her eyes, the clear blue shining a glimmer of red in his own. Something was changing inside of him, filling up a hole that had been previously emptied, and making him feel like he almost held that power again. He had not hit her though, and he couldn't bring himself to do so, he knew he didn't want to. Minutes passed in long uncomfortable silence before something happened that made him freeze in shock.

Her wet face was close to his neck, her arms around his torso and she was clinging to him as if her life depended on it. His heart thumped uncomfortably and all of his anger had drained away, leaving nothing but exhaustion in it's wake. He placed broad hands on her shoulders, pushing her back and tried not to look into those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to search his. Her mouth was open slightly and the slight tear stains on her cheeks told all. With a deep breath inexplicable words escaped his mouth and he wanted to take them back but he knew that it was best that he didn't.

"I think it would be best if you left."

...

A/N: Gasp! Gasp! *looks around* GASP! Yeah yeah I know...it's not that surprising...anyhow...sorry once again for my short chapters but since I dont have all of this story written from the get go this is the only way I can crank out all of these chapters so fast. So I'm thinking, since this is my actual first real attempt at writing something to the very end *bows* Thank you..thank you lol, that this is probably the third to last chapter . If this is the case, the last chapters will probably be quite long *for me anyway*. The thing is about to go down! I hope Wesker's ready! Alright guys Cor Atrum means Dark Heart and Read and Review, you know what to do! Buhbye!


	9. IX Reverto

_Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy._

...

Vas Domus

IX

Reverto

...

His words hit her like a slap in the face and all she could do was stand there and gape. What had she done wrong? One second they were getting along and the next they simply couldn't be around eachother? She looked to his face for any sign of regret and she had found none. She wanted to ask why, to beg him not to make her leave but all she did was square her shoulders and maintained a personality as cold as his own.

"If you think that's for the best." Without another word, she turned to stride up the stairs, swearing to herself that she would not let him see the hurt that shone in her eyes.

She hurried into her room, closing the door shut behind her quietly. Standing against the wall the first few minutes she'd been fine, but memories that didn't seem so far away flooded back and she felt the tears bubble up. Her knees shook like jello as she slid down the wall, his scent still strong in her senses and the warmth of his body still lingered like a ghost. Teeth dug into her lip until she could taste the copper flavor of her own blood on her tongue and for a moment the pain had been a welcome relief from the internal pain she felt then. Her chest felt dull and achey and the very large knot in her throat dared to stay no matter how many times she attempted to swallow it down.

She needed to get up, collect her things and get out of here. If he didn't want her around anymore then she didn't want to be around anymore, she argued to herself even if she knew it to be untrue. Upset, anger and a whole melting pot of emotions filled her, and she really didn't want to remain here if she was just a bother to him. Despite her need to spare herself the embarrassment of staying around any longer all she could do was remain on the floor.

Where was she going to go? He was all she had.

That revelation brought on another wave of tears that she desperately tried to choke back and she buried her face in her hands. Finally after what seemed like a lifetime she stood, packing up the belongings that she had acquired sense she had moved in with him, taking her time around the room. When she was done she sat on the bed, her duffel bag on her lap rubbing the satin sheets he had given her between her fingers slowly. She savored their soft sleekness as if it were the last time she would ever feel satin; possibly not but she was sure it would be the last time she felt _his_ satin. She was so confused and hurt, her heart felt as if it was literally breaking even though they had never once shared an intimate moment.

A crushing wave of reality fell down upon her and a not so shocking revelation settled on her already heavy heart.

Somehow, in her time with him, despite his somewhat cold demeanor and his standoffish attitude, she had fallen in love with him.

She was in love with Albert Wesker.

Fresh tears suffocated her and she collapsed into her pillow, the sobs not able to be pushed away this time and suddenly with this weakness she felt everything that she had lost flood back into her life.

Her parents...Steve...Chris...suddenly were all there, their lost presence surrounding her and she wept until sleep overtook her and without warning she was lost in the darkness.

...

He paced the floor, arms crossed against his broad chest as he tried to figure out why he had done what he just did. He knew the reasoning even if he tried to mask it as something else; he had hurt her, and he had never wanted to. He couldn't remember much of what happened, but the bruises on her neck and arms told him everything that she wouldn't.

He scoffed; it wasn't as if he hadn't hurt her before. That night on Rockfort he'd kicked her in the face, sent her flying to the ground and had almost crushed her shoulder beneath his foot.

_**'This is different, you didn't feel for her then, did you?'**_

The voice was a stranger in his head but it sounded vaguely like him, only from a different time. What a lovely day, now he was hearing voices. He tried to shut it off but it kept speaking, edging itself back into his conciousness.

_'__**It's really no matter, you know. She makes you weak and as far as I can tell, you're already weak enough.' **_ It mocked him, it's laughter ringing through his mind. He growled angrily as a sharp stabbing pain grew throughout his head and his vision began to swim, the lights in the dim living room suddenly becoming too much. He doubled over in pain as his skin suddenly lit with a feverish burn and he fell to his knees, clutching his head.

_**'You can ignore me all you want, but you know what I am. You know what you are and what you were always meant to be. Shame on you to have forsaken it, I'm disappointed. What would Father think if he saw you like this? He'd scrap you as a failed experiment. My, how far you have fallen.'**_

He couldn't respond to that mocking voice, he didn't know how to but what had it meant? He rose from the floor, the pain having vanished suddenly and with it the speaking in his head. His eyes snapped at the door, he could suddenly sense something wrong on the other side.

He could smell them, feel them, and hear them approaching. His eyes narrowed as the door was kicked in and a mass of figures flooded in, the leader was an extremely tall man who's face would always be etched in the back of his mind.

"Comrade Wesker, were you expecting us? Nice of you to meet us at the door. You were always a man of well mannered tendencies." His thick Russian accent was just as grating on Wesker's nerves as it had been the last time they had seen eachother, when he had efficiently ended the Russian's life.

Or so he had thought. The man was now standing right before his eyes and though he should have been surprised he found he wasn't; if he could return from the brink of death-after so many times-anything was possible.

"Sergei," His voice was alarmingly even and he found himself internally confused but he continued on, "How kind of you to pay me a visit, however I find myself wondering how you managed to worm your way out of the pile of rubble that resulted in your failure."

This earned a laugh from the Russian, and he waved his hand at his lackeys ordering them to lower their guns and stand down.

"That's funny, I was just going to ask you the same thing. How did that volcano taste? Good I hope." If Sergei was looking to get a rise out of him, he simply would not, and that was that.

He eyed the men that surrounded the Russian and the turned his attentions back to the man in the middle.

"So what do I owe the pleasure? I doubt you're here to rub your being into my face," He was brimming with internal malice but still he stayed calm and cool on the outside.

"An old friend wants to see you, Comrade. She and I thought it would be nice to have a little reunion." He flicked his wrist and suddenly the guns were raised at Wesker again, this time aiming to be shot.

"Lovely. Unfortunately I won't be able to attend, I have other business to attend to." At his words Sergei laughed and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Oh I'm afraid that your _business_ has already been taken care of. It's currently on it's way to the destination as we speak." Finally he had gotten a rise out of the blonde, and backed up an inch as Wesker wrenched forward with an animalistic growl. Two of the four men by Sergei's side had flown forward and had grabbed his arms, the taller of the two pulling out a taser and burying into his side. They released him as 50,000 volts spread throughout his body and sent seizure-like convulsions through him. He collapsed on his knees, his hands out in front of him bracing him.

"If that's all you've got, Sergei, then you might as well have not come here at all." He panted, but he had been through much worse. He felt a very large boot kick him into the ground and an almost equally large hand grip him by his hair and pull him up backwards.

"Net, Comrade." Sergei's voice spat directly in his ear and Wesker almost laughed. Almost. "As much as it would please me," He tugged hard on his head for emphasis, clearly displaying how much hatred he had for the blonde, "To tear your throat out right now, we have places to go and people to see first. So I shall ask you, _Albert_, will you come willingly or do I have to subdue you and drag your unconcious body along with me?"

For a moment Wesker was silent, and Sergei was almost sure he might have been unconcious already. He really should have known better.

"You know, Sergei, you can take your agenda and shove it up your ass." In almost a flash he pushed up off the ground and twisted in Sergei's hold before coming up to knock the man down with a fist to the face. Sergei ducked out of the way and Wesker wound up punching one of his subordinates to the ground instead. Unfortunately with his lack of strength and the alcohol that thrummed through his system before he wasn't up for long before Sergei caught both of his arms and slammed him hard against the wall. He had him pinned with both arms behind his back, using only one arm and Wesker cursed himself for such weakness.

"The hard way it is then. You've become so weak in your humanity. I wonder, has it made you soft? Is that why you kept the Redfield girl around so long, Comrade?" His mouth was directly on his ear and Wesker shuddered in disgust at the feel of his breath on his skin.

_**'Disgusting. He's much too close for comfort don't you think? Not that you can do anything about it now. Weakling.' **_The voice was back, taunting him, antagonizing him. Then Sergei spoke again, obviously busy with something in his other hand, but Wesker couldn't see it.

"Hn. No answer? It's all the same to me, Comrade," Wesker heard something plastic flicking against Sergei's finger and he could only assume what it was, "Don't worry, this part won't hurt at least." Wesker felt a pinprick against his skin, and soon the sound of Sergei's vehement laughter faded. His eyes drifted close and soon he was asleep.

Sergei went from laughing to direct action, "Get him strapped and bound and put him in the back of the containment van." He spouted at the guards.

"Sir, if he's no longer infected then why strap him down and put him in that vehicle?" One of the guards questioned.

"Do what I say and don't question me, soldier." Sergei turned his head back and then satisfied that his subordinates were doing as told, began to ascend the stairs to search for the girl.

He was quite pleased that his little plan had worked. Inferring that he already had the girl in captivity had caused Wesker to snap and lose control of himself long enough for Sergei to overpower him. He hadn't had much doubt that he could, but one always wanted to be sure when dealing with Albert Wesker. Virus or no virus, he was still one of the most dangerous men in the world.

That didn't matter much now, he thought with a self satisfied smirk, it would only be a few more hours before he could fulfill his long sought fantasy of stripping him of his life.

Quietly he searched the floors for signs of her, the excitement of his plan in action sending goosebumps through his body and he shivered.

Oh yes, he would have much fun with the little Redfield girl.

...

The racket had woken her and she slowly came out of the room, peering around the corner at the top of the stairs. Five men were surrounding Wesker and she had to stop herself from running down there and recklessly doing something that could result in both of them dead. She clamped her hand over her mouth with wide tearful eyes as she watched one of them jab a taser into his side. Not needing to see anymore she quietly tiptoed to Wesker's bedroom and began to frantically search for a weapon of some sort. Soon enough she found the Samurai Edge that she had given him and pulled it out of the box. With trembling hands she scattered around looking for the appropriate handgun ammo and she stumbled into his closet, his smell surrounding her.

She almost gave into wrapping herself into one of his long coats and falling asleep but she knew she had more important things to attend to. Without warning her foot caught on one of his shoes and she tripped her body flailing towards the wall. She reached out for anything to catch her and latched onto a strange cord that was dangling from the ceiling. It pulled and she nearly hit the ground, eyes wide at the fact that she had been making far too much noise to not be noticed.

That weird cord must have triggered something because suddenly the wall was sliding open and there before her was a keypad. She stood staring at it for a moment, interested at what could be behind it.

And that was when she heard him. He was stalking up the stairs, his heavy weight and large boots making it hard to sneak around undetected she was sure. Her fight or flight instinct kicked into overdrive and Claire Redfield was faced with two options.

She could either come out of the closet and try to fight past the white-haired leader and _if_-and that was a major if, the man was huge-she got past him fight off his subordinates downstairs. Or she could attempt to crack the lock on the keypad and follow whatever path it lead to.

She listened fiercely for the sound of him moving from room to room and realizing that she hadn't much of choice, she began to input random codes into the keypad.

The first three codes she had input had been wrong, first trying his birth year, then a code she could remember from an Umbrella lab he had seen over in the past and finally a random combination of four numbers.

Her fingers began to tremble and in a panic she input her own birth year. Her joy could hardly be concealed as the metal door slid open. She had no time to ponder why he had used the year of her birth as she descended the long and very dimly lit staircase that led under the house. She ran, somehow never losing her footing, gun in hand and soon she was inside of a lab.

"I knew there was a lab somewhere in this house." She whispered quietly to herself and found the light switches flicking one on with her finger all the while praying that she hadn't turned on some kind of alarm.

A small overhead light flickered to life and she began to rummage through the drawers until she came across one clip of well placed handgun ammo. She loaded it into the gun and switched the safety off. As she was searching for a good place to hide or even an escape route something blinking caught her eye. She wandered over to it-a strange temperature controlled drawer-and found that it too had a keypad next to it. She knew that now wasn't the time for curiousity but almost in a daze she reached out and input the exact same code from before. Satisfaction lit her as the red blinking light turned a steady green and she pulled open the drawer.

Inside were three different capsules, each a distinctive color and Claire's mouth hung agape.

The first one was a very bright blue, the label on it read: T-Virus.

The second was an incredibly rich purple that read T-Veronica.

The third-an almost neon red-was the one that Claire found her hand absently reaching out to, her shaking fingers growing closer to it with each baited breath.

T-Virus: A/W Strain

Her head snapped towards the room above. She could hear him in there, shuffling about and searching for something. Her eyes widened to that of saucers and she tried desperately to steady her breathing as she attempted to shut the drawer but it wouldn't go. She quickly picked up the A/W strain of the virus and wrapped it as many times as she could in paper towels that she found settled near a sink before slipping it into a plain black pencil case she had found in the drawer next to the bullets. She then shoved in carefully into her pant's pocket before attempting to close the temp-controlled drawer shut.

"Here, kitty, kitty! I know you're down here, love. Why don't you come out and play with me?" His thick accent permeated the air in the sterile lab and it made the cleanliness of the lab distort into almost a fog. She knew it really hadn't, but it certainly felt like it. Seeing no other option she slammed the drawer and unknowingly shattered the purple substance, the light stain on her hand not noticed by her; the drawer was shut and that's all that mattered.

With her hands wrapped around his gun she ran quietly to shut the light off and took refuge behind a metal table.

It would be only minutes before she would come face to face with the one man who had bested Wesker.

...

_A/N: _Ooh la la cliffhanger. As much as I hate doing that, I felt that right there was where I should stop, plus you guys are due for another chapter. Alright so you know the drill! Read and Review! Love ya guys! AND DON'T FORGET TO VOTE ON MY POLL AND READ THE NEW UPDATE ON MY PROFILE! Tis important! Ta-ta for now!

Reverto means Return.


	10. X Ultionis

_Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy._

...

Vas Domus

X

Ultionis

...

Nostrils flared as he sniffed the air; he could smell her scent strongest down here. That somewhat intoxicating smell of apples overlain with what smelled like cherry blossoms was the one path that lead him to her. He made his way down the stairway that had been haphazardly left available to him ; silly girl, she really needed to learn to cover her tracks better.

Finally the stairs cut to a small pathway that led to a metal sliding door. As he walked close to it the door slid open and he walked into a mostly dark room. It was decently large in here from what he could tell but the lights were no where to be found. It mattered not; he could smell her fear from even the top of the stairs.

"Miss Redfield, I know you're in here. You may as well come along quietly and I won't harm you." He rounded the corner, calling out into the darkness. He couldn't see her but she was here, although this little game of cat and mouse was working on his nerves.

Suddenly he saw it, the heel of her boot was sticking out from behind the table. He slid around to the side, shrouded in complete blackness, a wide predatory smile lighting up his face. He could feel her, hear her heart thunder fearfully and another shudder weaved through him.

She was simply delicious, and he hadn't even felt her yet.

He watched over the table, sure that she couldn't see him, as she shuffled just the tiniest bit. He slowly reached his hand over to grip her hair and she flung her body out from behind the table, hitting the smooth tile floor in a slide.

The light from the gunshot she directed his way lit the room for a fraction of a moment and he could accurately pinpoint her location. His heavy footfalls stamped across the room in her direction but he didn't see the metal cart that she had slid in front of him. He stumbled over it and growled angrily as he caught himself on the countertop.

"Enough of these games, girl. Show yourself or I will find you and when I do it won't be pretty." He called out to her and she stood up behind the counter, accurately firing another shot into his shoulder.

Ignoring the pain he leapt over the counter with his hand extended and caught her hair in a firm grip, taking her to the floor with him as she cried out.

"Let me go, you bastard!" He flipped her onto her stomach, pressing his knee into her back sharply and she cried out in pain, her hands lashing to claw at him but all she caught was air.

"Miss Redfield, that is hardly an appropriate introduction. Don't you think?" His voice was gravelly and it penetrated her ears in the worst way. It made her feel dirty, like she had been bathing in grime.

"Fuck you." She rasped and he pulled on her hair his knee still firmly in her back, pulling her front up painlessly. She almost screamed as it felt like he had pinched a nerve in her spine but she bit her lip.

A smile, one she couldn't see, graced his face as he ran his hand along her bottom roughly. Her eyes widened in fright.

What was he going to do to her?

She kept struggling against him as he reached into his coat for another syringe full of the drug he had used on Wesker, uncapping it and bringing it up to the back of her neck. As soon as the needle tip touched her skin she flailed out, bringing her arm around the back to knock it from his hand. The back of her hand caught the edge and the needle grazed it, opening the flesh like a razorblade.

He made an irritated noise as he slammed her head into the ground, rendering her unable to do much long enough to jab the needle into her neck. Her conciousness wavered but she still struggled-although in vain-against him. He chuckled, quite pleased with her helplessness.

"F-Fu-Fuck...you..." She sighed and soon gave into sleep.

He lifted her up and threw her over his broad shoulder, making his way back up towards the entrance of the house.

"Soon, Miss Redfield. Soon."

...

His eyes fluttered open lazily and he could feel himself moving, the bump of the terrain signaling that he was in a vehicle. His mouth was open partially but he found he couldn't open or close it any further as some contraption was binding it to stay in one spot. He could best describe it as a muzzle of some sort, disabling him to bite his captors or speak. His arms and legs were bound; his arms and upper body in a tight straightjacket and his legs in restraint bars. He looked around as much as his slurred movement would allow him and noted that he was strapped to the floor of the vehicle with tight leather straps.

_**'Look at you. Sergei has you bound like some kind of rabid animal, surely you won't allow him to get away with that, will you? Of course you will, what ever else would you do?**_' The voice taunted and he closed his eyes, trying to regain some energy for what ever was to come next. He tried to steady himself and listen to the conversation that the men who were driving were having.

"If you ask me, I'd say that the Colonel has gone a bit far," The first one had an incredibly deep voice and Wesker deduced that he was the one driving, considering the pitch of his voice evened into the braking of the car, "I mean, taking Wesker was one thing but...the girl? He didn't really need her did he?" Soon the other chimed in, voice sounding somewhat high pitched for a man.

"You know how he is. The things they taught him during communist rule were almost like torture. Things like that can do weird things to a man. That girl though, did you see her?"

"I got a quick look before the greedy bastard snatched her away."

"Claire Redfield." The second one said almost smugly.

"Say what? Who?"

"She's Claire Redfield, you know..._the_ Claire Redfield, little sister to Chris Redfield?"

"The same Chris Redfield who had originally taken out Wesker?"

"One and the same. Apparently Wesker had secured the job as the captain for Raccoon City's Police Department-the S.T.A.R.S division. A sort of double agent job if you will. Basically, or so the story goes, Wesker led the team-same team that Redfield was on-into this mansion full of B.O.W's and ever since, they had some long standing hatred for eachother. Kind of found it strange how she was living with the man who had vowed to kill her brother."

"So what? He probably kidnapped her. He's into that." A flippant response from man number one.

"Okay, but what's even stranger is that when he carried her out he mumbled a bunch of things under his breath about 'ridiculous loyalties to a traitorous monster.'"

"And?"

"And, that must mean that Miss Redfield had been concerned about the whereabouts of Wesker when Sergei found her.

Wesker's eyes flew open. He could remember Sergei mentioning something about having already taken Claire before he had gotten to him. That rat bastard had lied to his face-not that he had expected anything less. What truly made him angry was the fact that he had actually forgotten himself long enough to take the bait. He had never been the kind of person to be protective of anyone but himself, and this girl all of sudden is able to change that? No...Not for any longer, as far as he was concerned all that mattered was that he got out of this. Then he could return to the work that he had forgone because he knew that she had not approved.

The entire premise, he realized, had been ridiculous from the start. He had tried to make himself to be something he wasn't; human.

Even if his physical body hadn't possessed the power it once had, that didn't mean that he now had to lower his guard just because she had been in trouble.

_**'Oh...The mention of the little Redfield girl makes him angry, does it? That's amusing. Surely you aren't going to risk your own safety for her are you?'**_

Why should he? Why did she even matter anymore?

His inner voice was soft as he felt a bit of his otherworldly strength return to him.

_"No."_

He heard voices on the other side of the door, and identified them as the men driving and the other as Sergei.

The doors opened slowly, and he was assaulted with a bright light. He _really_ wished he had his sunglasses at that moment, and noticed that his eyes were steadily getting more light sensitive. A dark and blurred figure came up and blocked most of the light and for a moment he was almost relieved, until he realized who it was.

"Comrade Wesker, you're awake! I'm quite pleased. Now we can begin."

...

She woke she felt a severe cold throttle her body, making her shiver violently, despite the fact of being wrapped in several warm blankets and set on a cushy surface. She stretched slowly, trying to find any warmth in the thick covers but could find none. Relief flooded through her as she realized that she was safe in her room, safe in the house, safe with him in it. Her fingers absently reached out to finger the sheets she was lying over.

She froze, the feel of the sheets sinking into her and she wrenched her hand away as if she had been burned. These sheets, for all their softness, were not the same satin sheets she had come to adore so much.

Her eyes widened in horror as she recalled what had happened previously. She leapt out of the bad faster than as if someone had pulled her out and frantically checked to make sure all of her clothes were still in place. With a sigh she found that they were; well, there was something to be relieved about. Her eyes drifted over the room slowly, finding nothing in similarity to Wesker's house or her room.

That white-haired bastard kidnapped her and this, she could assume, was his bedroom or at least a guest room somewhere.

She visibly jumped as said man entered the room, looking every part the sadistic, diabolic jack-off he was.

"Evening, love. I trust you slept well." His accent made her shiver, but in no way that Wesker's had. He moved forward slowly and she began to back up with every forward step he took.

"Cut the shit," She spat at him and he feigned a look of hurt, bringing his hand to rest over his chest, "Where's Wesker?"

"Sweet, naive little Claire," He had her completely cornered and, "Even after so much he put you through, you still think of him," He reached up to grip her chin with his hand and forced her head forward to look into his cold silver eyes, "What do you believe in your little fantasy world, my dear? Do you believe that he will feel for you? Do you think he will _love_ you one day? That..._man_...is not capable of such a thing." He scoffed, and Claire tried to wriggle from his grip but he held firm, hand tight on her jaw.

"You'll never be half the man he is." She spat, almost disbelieving that she had said such a thing. Immediately her doubts returned to her and with it so did the hurt. Why sing the praises of a man who had dismissed her without even a second thought to her feelings? All he had done was run her around and now she was defending him? Perhaps he was right, perhaps she was better off away from him. Apparently he thought the same of her. Didn't matter much at the moment though, as she was stuck here with this asshole. The hungry look that swept over her body made her insides curl with disgust and the urge to slap that look right off of his face. She turned her head to remove her eyes from the sight of the man before her but his hand stiffened, preventing her from moving. She had enough.

"Let go of me!" She cried out, grabbing the lamp that was on the end table and smashing it directly at his head. His hand released her and flew up to latch onto his eye, glass embedded into his face.

"Bitch!" He took his other hand and backhanded her across the face, hard. She stumbled backwards but didn't have time to register anything as his ripped her hair up with his hand and dragged her out of the room and down the corridor. She didn't flail around like her brain was urging her to do, the knowledge that anymore movement than necessary could cause her hair to tear stop her. Hell his grip was so firm that if she struggled enough it could possibly end up with her missing chunks of her scalp; she knew he wouldn't let go. The tug on her hair caused her body to move with him as he strode angrily through the hall and rage bubbled up at the thought of how much he was treating her like a dog. Indignancy swirled with a range of many other emotions and not soon enough they had stopped and he swung open a door thrusting her inside. As she hit the ground on her knees a hiss escaped her as rough, beaten cement ground into her knees and pieces of flesh had been embedded into the surface. She knew that the temperature here had to be at least ten degrees cooler but she felt no change in the atmosphere, no residual cooling that came with dungeons like this.

It was just complete cold no matter where she went, and as distressed as she was in that very moment, she had to wonder why.

...

He was moved into what appeared to be a large factory warehouse but there were no telltale signs that it had ever been used as such. The area was empty and in fact lacked any signs of use at all. Thankfully it was dark but he was still completely bound. It seemed that they hadn't spared anything when dealing with him; fortunate for them as he was burning up inside with rage.

Wesker was rarely a man who got angry, at least where his anger caused him to do reckless actions, but overpowering one and tying them up like a dog can do that to a person. Without warning a blinding light flooded in a single figure of slight stature stood in the doorway.

For a moment the figure stood in the light unmoving. The flare of the hips and chest identified it as female and the confident way she held herself told him that she was definitely not Claire.

He was happy at that revelation, he didn't want to see her anyway.

Slowly she moved, grace and poise that wasn't much seen in women of this time, but something clearly was missing. What she had in poise and confidence was compunded with what could only be defined as arrogance. The hurried walk on too tall heels showed that this woman was vain in the worst ways. Vanity like that often only meant one thing; low self-esteem.

A small light of recognition lit up his red speckled eyes. There was only one woman that he had ever met in all of his life that moved that way, wore shoes that were obviously uncomfortable in order to meet the common standards of beauty, and was vain beyond all compare.

She stopped before him, her long dark chocolate hair and eyes almost black in the bare light of the outside, but penetrating. She was still as he remembered her-must have had an extensive amount of plastic surgery after her accident-except she now carried a long thin scar across her face.

"Excella. You look well." He said with an air of non-chalance that only served to piss her off. He couldn't help the sick smile that twisted his mouth.

"Oh, Albert. Still displaying that indifferent attitude even though you surely must know that your time has come and gone. I know your secret." She purred delicately leaning into his ear, "I just stopped by to ask you how it feels to be mortal? How does it feel knowing that at any moment some kind of terrible accident could happen and you could die just like that?" She snapped her fingers for emphasis, but instead of achieving the desired effect of enraging him he merely kept his face trained in that cool emotionless state.

"Oh, Excella," He began, his voice full of mocking,"Still displaying that spoiled lack of self-esteem even though you surely must know that you can't truly bring me down. You may be able to harm me in my...weakened...state but nothing that you or that awful Sergei can do will stop anything. So why don't you tell _me_," He purred, noting the way her body shook with refused rage, "How does it feel to know that you failed? How does it feel knowing that you are nothing more than a pathetic and lonely woman who can't seem to even dress herself without help? You are not worthy, and that is why Uroboros rejected you."

"Bastard!" She swung her arm up and landed a swift slap on his pale cheek, the redness of the handprint began to form but he never recoiled, "How dare you talk to me like that? After all you put me through!"

He chuckled, "Need I remind you that you signed up for it yourself. Your fruitless and ridiculous attempt to woo me caused you to accept the implantation of Uroboros, even though you knew the consequences of what would happen if the parasite didn't accept _you_. That, my dear, is your own fault." Excella literally seethed at him, the fact that his words were true making her all the more angry. She turned to walk away from him, her body still shaking with repressed anger.

"You will pay for what you did, Albert Wesker. That I will see to myself." With no other words she turned on her heel, making haste for the door. She had another, better idea and turned her head back around, peering at him over her shoulder.

"Oh...one more thing. That girl, Claire Redfield I believe, is currently with Sergei in case you were wondering. He seems to have taken a liking to her," She watched, pleased indefinitely as his eyes darkened but otherwise showed no reaction, she continued,"What a little slut she is, I heard her earlier, begging for him not to stop, for him to fuck her harder. Such a little slut indeed." She could have sworn she had seen a flash of red in those eyes but discontinued that thought as paranoia.

She strode out, head held high as she knew she had won. There was nothing to fear from him anymore.

He was, afterall, all that which he had hated in the first place. He was human.

The thought brought a smile to her face.

...

The door swung open and her eyes were assaulted with light and she had to repress the urge to groan at the interruption of her feeling sorry for herself. That was how she had passed the time-intervals that seemed like days and were only hours-feeling sorry that she had ended up in this position in the first place. It sickened her to the point of nausea, the whole fact that she could do nothing more than sit in this dungeon and feel this way. The old Claire would have never done that; she would have attempted to dig her way out of this place with her bare hands before ever doing something like that. She honestly missed how she used to be, so full of optimism and cheer even in the face of horrid adversity. She missed how she always had Chris and Jill and the others to have her back. Things were different now, she mused sadly, Chris was gone and Jill's whereabouts unknown. As for the others, that had basically all lost contact with her. At first she had been angry, her friends seemingly forsaking her because the fact of the matter was that Chris was gone and they seemed to no longer have any interest in helping her. She began to realize, that in all of her self-pity and anger, that she was the one who pushed them away, made them forsake her.

Before Jill had left, despite her own deep anguish at losing the older Redfield, she and Leon had gotten together and brought her quite a few prepared meals to help deal. She had acted angrily towards them, lashing out and then even then they tried for the longest to reach her. One day Jill had come by alone, bringing her some fresh laundry and Claire had been passed out on the couch, empty alcohol bottle in her hand and a bottle of pain killers by her side. In a frenzy she had tried to wake her up but Claire wouldn't rise, so she called 911 for help. Once Claire had finally come to she had been furious with the woman that she had once thought of as her best friend. How dare she cross that line? She was fine all on her own, she didn't need someone to pity her. She could handle it on her own.

Or so she thought. And when Jill finally took the hint and couldn't deal with her anymore she realized just how much she needed someone to help her deal with her loss.

Never once had she given thought to how Jill may have felt. She had been in love with her brother for years not to mention the close partnership they had shared for so long. Chris and Jill may have been closer than even she and Chris. The two had a much different connection than most partners had, and Claire felt a stab of guilt at her actions toward the brunette. This only made her feel even worse.

An unsettling voice rose her from her reverie and slowly she stood, backing up into the wall slowly. Even his voice made her feel like she needed to take at least four showers, his intentions with her quite obvious in the way he acted and spoke.

"What do you want?" She croaked, her throat feeling unnaturally dry and for a moment she wondered if it was closing up all together. It felt like someone had force fed her acid.

He said nothing, coming towards her slowly, much like how a predator would corner it's prey. She backed up as far as she could until she felt the cool stone of the wall on her back. Now she was completely cornered. Before she could so much as blink he was on her, his big hands pressing her shoulders into the wall and his thigh coming up to rest between her legs. His wet mouth licked a trail across her collarbone to her ear and she froze for the briefest of moments before fervently trying to get him off of her. Her attempt to break away was futile and he bit down hard into her neck, breaking the skin, as she felt a blade against her neck. She whimpered, as his hand came up to rest on her thigh, feeling utterly trapped. No, no, no...this couldn't be happening, not like this, not now.

Not with him.

The site of the bite began to tingle, almost like someone had put a few grains of salt on her wound, or had dipped their finger into alcohol and lightly dabbed it. She couldn't even feel him as he licked the blood from the wound. She had merely shrugged against the wall, resigning to it.

Suddenly as if he had been burned he tore his body off of her, wrenching away from her and violently spitting her blood out of his mouth. Claire looked on in horror at the severity of the burns on his lips, but inwardly she was just relieved that he wasn't touching her anymore. He watched in shock as the blood he had spat onto the ground began to sizzle and leave indentations in the stone.

"What was...No...It couldn't be.." He seemed to be talking to himself, forgotten about her for just a moment. And just a moment was all she needed before she ran forward, wrenching the blade out of his loosened hand and stabbing it directly into his shoulder. He cried and fell backward, clearly not on the alert after he had been burned by whatever the hell that was. At that moment she didn't care. All she cared about was the fact that the door was open and escape was free to her for at least a few moments.

She didn't care that he'd come after her, she didn't care that he'd be pissed, she didn't care about the repercussions of running like this. She didn't care about the fact that for some reason her blood had injured him, or the hows and whys of that prospect.

The only thing that she cared about was for just a while, in these moments of pride swelling in her and relief settling, she could be free.

Just for a while.

...

_A/N: Ugh...that chapter was unreasonably difficult to write, sorry for the wait. I've been slowly working it up over the past few days and I desperately wanted to add more but felt I just couldn't continue on with this chapter...I just didn't like it much. I hope you guys do though and it will probably get rewritten, didn't flow well with me at all. So anyhow, read and review! Bye guys! _


	11. XI Virus

_Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy._

...

Vas Domus

XI

Virus

...

Claire ran.

She hit the ground flying faster than she ever had, but she didn't give it much thought, all she was paying attention to was Sergei angrily calling after her. His roar of a voice compounding with the stomping of his boots. It was time to get the hell out of here. She needed to devise a plan but first she had to lose the old bastard.

She briefly wondered where Wesker was. Was he safe? What if they were inflicting all sorts of terrible things on him? Was he even here? She hurriedly shook her head to clear such thoughts. He didn't care about her, he was the one who had tried to get rid of her in the first place. That manipulative, conniving bastard. How did she know that this entire instance was just a way to play her into his charade? It was certainly not beneath him, she was sure, to pull and tug on a woman's heart strings in order to get her to do what he wanted.

And she had let him do it. She felt sick, not nauseous sick, but heartsick. She didn't want to feel that way, she didn't want him to have that power over her. What if everything he had ever told her had been a lie? What if he wasn't even human to begin with? She felt so stupid, so easily used. Flashes of memories tried to argue with her and that the signs of his humanity had been there but she was jumping to conclusions in her disheveled state. The hallway ended abruptly and she was soon standing in front of a set of double doors. Her hearted pounded thunderously as she heard Sergei's footsteps. She could somehow, although she didn't contemplate how, hear his ragged and irritated breaths. He was getting closer and she panicked, pulling the doors open hard. The twisting of the doorknob with all the force she had exhibited caused the the wood around it to crack but she paid it no heed as she threw herself inside a dark room. She stumbled around quietly, looking for a place to hide without making an excess of noise. Her body froze as she heard a very faint shuffling of fabric not even five feet away from her. A table lamp was switched on and she peered down at one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. A smile had lit her olive toned face that was obviously faked, and she was the first to speak.

"You must be Miss Redfield. What a _pleasure_ to finally be able to meet you." She had a somewhat Italian accent but Claire couldn't accurately pin point exactly what region it originated from. The woman did look somewhat familiar though. The way she held herself was as if she possessed all of the secrets of the world, her confidence was nearly flawless, but her eyes were clearly deceitful. Something about this woman made Claire uneasy, she didn't particularly seem like a friendly person. Of course she was also sitting in the dark in the same building that some white-haired Russian had been chasing her around with the intention of destroying her body. That was kind of a dead giveaway. Still, on the off chance that the woman didn't want to harm her she decided not to pull anything reckless.

"Yes...who are you?" The woman laughed a bit at the confused expression on Claire's face.

"Just a friend. Tell me, are you running from something? You seem out of breath Miss Redfield." Her voice was a purr and she leaned forward as to show off more cleavage. A clear sign of an Alpha female. She was trying to make Claire feel insignificant, and the red head found it somewhat immature. It was like when she was in highschool and more developed, popular girls had tried to show their assets off in a clear display of trying to deter her from having more male attention. Normally Claire would have found it hard to feel insignificant next to a woman she barely knew, but there was also something about this woman that made her uneasy.

Maybe she really did feel insignificant but she didn't have time to think about that.

Claire didn't respond to her query, she really didn't know what to say.

"Perhaps..." Excella stood, her long legs carrying her around Claire, like a shark circling it's prey, "You are running _to_ something?" Claire stiffened, and she noted the smirk of approval on the other woman's face.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but if you'll excuse me, I really must be going now." She heard the distinct click of a gun in her ear as she went to step away and she froze. Damn it all.

"I wouldn't recommend that you do that, Miss Redfield." The dark haired woman purred, "You've been a very ungrateful towards my hospitality you know. Besides, I think you'd be much safer with me than him." Claire wasn't sure who she meant by 'him'. She assumed it was Sergei but..

Claire scoffed at that, figures that she'd be dealing with a bunch of batshit whackos.

"I wasn't aware that being kidnapped was something one had to be thankful for." Excella laughed at this, throwing her dark head back to reveal her long throat. Claire instantly wished she could grab the letter opener on the desk and stab her in that throat, but she just narrowed her eyes.

"I would hardly say that you were kidnapped. Do you forget who you were with before?"

Claire's eyes widened a bit. This woman knew Wesker? Was she one of his business associates? Did she..mean anything to him? Claire mentally shook her head and decided that she didn't really care what this woman was to him if anything. She wouldn't hesitate to disable her if she got in her way, even if an opportunity hadn't presented itself. Getting out of here was top priority and no attachment or jealousy could prevent that. This was probably all his fault anyway.

Her anger was unfounded, and she knew that. He was probably in just as much trouble as she was, if not more. That Sergei didn't seem quite fond of Wesker and she had to wonder exactly why that was. Perhaps Wesker had beat him to the top in the Umbrella ranks. She was sure he had beat a lot of people to the top. That was the most likely situation she could think of.

"I don't have to explain anything to you and if you think that a gun against my head is going to stop me from getting out of here, you're sorely mistaken."

"If that's the case why haven't you left yet, Miss Redfield?"

Claire knew when her bluff was called; okay, so maybe a gun to the temple put a bit of a damper on things.

Excella pressed the pistol into her skin almost painfully, "Let's take a walk shall we?"

Begrudgingly Claire walked along beside the woman, as if she had a choice. The barrel of the gun was a cold reminder of what she was up against. If her energy hadn't been nearly completely drained from being drugged earlier and her little spat with Sergei, she might have tried to subdue the woman but right now she decided it would be in her best interests to go along. Excella opened the doors to the hall and lead her down the long corridor and into an elevator at the very end. How hadn't she seen that before?

"Inside." She was pushed forward and hit the metal wall, reaching out to brace the impact with her hands. Excella slid in alongside her, lowering the gun to Claire's chest and no longer pressing it against her, and clicking a button on the panel that said "4B"

"Where are we going?" Claire asked, her voice just above a whisper. Before Excella could answer, a beep came from somewhere in her ample cleavage. It was only then did the redhead notice the thin wire that was connecting a transmission device hidden in her top to a receiver in her ear.

"Yes?...Why yes she is... Well stop stomping around up there at the loss of some pussy and get down to the basement. ...Yes, that basement you idiot." With an annoyed scowl she pressed her finger to the button in her ear. Her eyes turned to Claire, almost mirthfully.

"Isn't it so difficult to get good help these days?" Claire wanted to punch this woman in the face, to break that mocking smile and make her feel weak. A rumble signaled the stopping of the elevator and Excella pushed her out of the box with a rough shove of the gun. She kept it pressed to her back as they walked down a corridor that seemed it would go on forever. Claire's legs were burning and her stomach was tingling in a way that made her wonder if something was on the inside tickling it. She risked a look back at Excella who looked more than pleased to have a gun jammed into someone's shoulderblade and all the while smiling merely responded with, "Eyes forward."

Finally the long corridor ended at one single door. It was heavy looking and bolted with two different locks. The brunette reached forward and pressed the top button, then placed her hand on the scanner only removing it when the red light turned green. She then pressed the second button, a voice emitting from a tiny speaker.

_"Authorization code, please."_

"0982387222638879" Excella purred into the speaker. Claire wondered what would possess her to blatantly reveal the code right in front of her but then she realized that it didn't really matter. The handprint authorization along with a long numerical code that was most likely voice activated would prevent any intruders without proper privileges from entering.

The red light on that panel switched green and she pushed open the door. The room was very dimly lit and didn't allow for her to see anymore than six feet in front of her. From the way every click of Excella's impractical heels against the floor echoed, she could tell it was pretty empty as well. Before they could even step more than ten paces into the room the door behind them hissed open.

"I'll be taking her now, Excella." Claire's heart sunk when she heard that heavy Russian accent behind her. Any chances of getting away from this woman were shattered as that large hand wrapped around her arm.

"You should really keep a better eye on your playthings, Vladimir." The dark-haired woman said with a pout in her voice, "I really have more important things to do than catch your toys for you."

"Enough talk. Let's go." He bit back, wrapping his hand tightly around Claire's arm and dragging her alongside him as they moved further into the room. They stopped momentarily to allow Sergei to slap a pair of heavy handcuffs on Claire's wrists and she struggled against him.

"Don't make me drug you again, Miss Redfield. It would really be a shame to have to do that, I much prefer to play with my women while they are awake." He hissed against her ear and Excella's eyes rolled, but she said nothing.

"Touch me again and I'm going to rip your dick off." Claire hissed back and spat directly into his eye. As if by reaction his hand came forward to slap her, knocking her down onto the ground hard. She winced as her butt hit hard concrete and she decided that she was quite fed up with being tossed around and thrown down against her will. Bunch of jerks, didn't they know how to treat a lady?

"Enough. You don't want to damage her too much." Excella was clearly annoyed. He didn't know how to handle a hostage at all. He certainly lacked in handling women and Excella knew that the best way to get a woman-hostage or not-to do what you wanted was to cater to her. Sergei snarled and ripped the woman off of the ground dragging her along further. Excella followed.

Claire wondered just how much further until they got to where they were going. Just how big was this room? For a moment she wanted to ask if Wesker was here but she decided against it. Why was she so damn dependent on him anyway?

_You were dependent on him for over half a year._

Claire scowled and forced her body to go forward. Suddenly they stopped and Claire's eyes were assault with a bright fluorescent attack. She stumbled backwards hitting the broad plane of Sergei's chest and throwing her arm up to block out the light. In her attempt she chanced a glance up at the Russian's face through under her arm; the look there made her want to run away. Soon her eyes adjusted and the room began to clear. She set her eyes forward, the sight she was met with caused her heart drop deep into the pit of her stomach. The audible gasp that escaped her made both of her captors smile with pleasure. She didn't see it though, all she could see was the sheer inhumanity of what lay before her.

There he was, attached to a large metal contraption. It resembled a cross with two vertical stands instead of one. His arms were spread all the way out, wrists confined with what appeared to be large spikes through them, blood dripping onto the floor with a sickening 'splat'. His shoulders were braced down with big metal loops and his legs were also being trapped under the same clasps but with two to each leg; one around his calf and the other around his thigh. His ankles were also bound as well as his midsection. A mess of blonde hair obscured his face and his head was slumped forward. Her eyes widened as she noticed that there were long violent red streaks along his body, ranging in different lengths and widths and he was covered in dry blood.

From the strained look on his face, it appeared that he had passed out from the pain.

"Isn't it beautiful, Claire?" Sergei asked in awe and her head snapped up at him in disgust, "You don't like it?" He said in a mock-indignant way that made her insides furl in anger, "It took quite alot of time to get it just right. I'm offended that you don't appreciate what I've done for you."

"What you've done for _me_?" She hissed. This man was insane. "What the hell have you done to _him_?"

"Oh as if he doesn't deserve all of it and more. Surely you've dreamt about the day when the man who had singlehandedly destroyed all that was sacred to you would be brought to his knees, have you not? Or has that changed with your feelings for him?" He grabbed her face so hard she could hear the creak of her jaw under the pressure. In a fear filled rage she pushed away from him, stumbling forward towards the battered man on the metal crucifix.

"A fine ending for one who believed himself a god." Sergei said, but she couldn't hear him. The sheer sight of Wesker being suspended so helplessly. His face contorted in pain, even in his unconciousness, it made her want to cry.

"This isn't even the beginning, love. He will pay for his arrogant, self-centered ways. . And you," He continued past his maniacal laughter,"Why you get a first class ticket to the show. Don't look so sad, love. After all, I'm sure your brother would have _loved_ to see this."

An almost audible snap could have been heard in the room as Claire turned faster than the two of them could see. Mentioning her brother was the absolute _last_ straw. Her own conciousness seemed to fade away as her eyes took on an almost unearthly greenish hue, and she broke for the tall man who had been mocking her. She propelled her body forward, her hand latching on to his throat and knocking him down to the ground.

She squeezed tighter than her own muscles could allow, and she wouldn't stop until his ragged breathing and struggling did.

...

The pain was intense and he could hear voices close by, but he couldn't recognize him. His arms felt like they would dislodge from his shoulders at any moment, and he stayed very still. He could remember being beaten to a pulp before he had fainted and that was all. Still, despite the sheer pain, he never broke, never screamed or even flinched. With every strike of that archaic whip that Sergei's lackeys tore across his skin, he kept his perfectly cool expression. It undoubtedly made the experience worse, but he refused to show them how badly it hurt.

He wanted to open his eyes but moving his head even a fraction of an inch made a terrible stabbing pain rip through his skull. His anger had fizzled with the entirety of the night's events and now he just realized that there wasn't much left to do. He didn't have the strength of the virus to help him and he didn't even have any of his ordinary strength left. All seemed lost but he wouldn't let it bother him.

All things had to come to an end, but that didn't mean that Sergei and Excella would get away with this unscathed. It never ended like that. Those voices kept wavering in and out, a male and a female arguing or fighting or something of the sort. He tried to ignore them and force his body to go back into a coma, he really didn't feel like being awake anymore.

"What the hell have you done to him?" He knew that voice, he had heard it everyday for so long. Claire. He wanted to break free now for certain, he didn't want her to see him like this, so weak, so useless. He couldn't bring himself to even lift his head. He hadn't felt this helpless and vulnerable since he was a child, not even when the Tyrant had thrust those claws into his gut had he felt this weak. The man was speaking now, but he didn't focus on it as he tried fervently to open his eyes or move something without even more pain spreading through his system. Suddenly a sharp screech pierced the air and his eyes flew open in surprise. As blurry as his vision was he could see under the strands of hair covering his eyes and he watched as Claire violently lunged forward for Sergei's throat. She was so fast, so strong it was almost like it wasn't even her but some crude replica of her. He narrowed his eyes, the pain behind his lids temporarily forgotten as he watched her ontop of him, her hands cutting off his air supply.

Excella just stood on the side looking almost smug, as if she wanted Sergei dead as well.

Where had this sudden rush of power come from? Maybe she was just _that_ angry, but he doubted that anger could cause that to happen. Not even he had ever caused a reaction like that by emotion alone. Sergei finally untangled himself from Claire and threw her into a wall, the force of the throw cracking the wall and dribbling pieces of paint and dust onto her head. She seemed confused, the strange glow in her eyes fading away. Sergei was stomping towards her thrusting a long arm out to grab her by her throat and he lifted her almost two feet off the ground. Wesker watched with eyes wide as Claire's color began to fade in the struggle and her breaths came out shallow along with strained gasps and a small plea for him to stop.

He was going to kill her.

"Sergei!" His voice called out, sounding more broken and raspy than he would have normally allowed, "Let her go. You don't want her." He almost couldn't believe himself, here we was playing saviour again. His previous indifference to her was forgotten, she didn't deserve to be caught in the middle, it was his problem.

_**'Oooh, brave. Since when did you start saving damsels in distress?'**_His inner voice mocked, the sheer amusement it was finding was quite annoying but he ignored it. There were more important things to deal with right now. It wasn't just about Claire, it was the principal, Sergei had crossed the line for the very last time. He would find a way to get out of this, and he would make that bastard Russian pay with his own life.

His anger flared back up and along with it a determination that he had given up. He watched as the Russian dropped Claire on the ground with a thud and turned towards him, sick hunger flashing in cold grey orbs.

"Albert. Welcome back," Excella purred and for a moment he had forgotten that she was there, "Are you comfortable?"

"Very much so. You've been most hospitable, thank you." The smirk disappeared from her face and she strode over to Claire, ripping her up by her hair. She was clearly losing her temper at the fact that nothing she said seemed to bother him.

"I'm glad," She tossed Claire over towards him, just at his feet, "Tell me, Albert, are you in the mood for a game? I have a wonderful one that I am just itching to play with you." A long manicured hand slid under her dress and unsheathed a long blade from a holster on her thigh. She walked back over to Claire and sat down on her back with her legs crossed, reaching out for her hair and pulling her head up. Sergei made his way to the back of the metal stand with a sickly amused expression, but Wesker's eyes remained on the women before him.

"You see, darling, the rules of this game are simple," She slid the metal blade against Claire's forehead lightly, "I am going to slowly cut up your little friend and everytime she screams, you will recieve a little treat of your own."

"You sick bitch...You're going to pay-" Claire ground out, but Excella frowned and stood, baring her stiletto into Claire's back, recieving a grunt from the redhead beneath her.

"Hush. The adults are talking." Excella reached forward and grabbed Claire up off the ground and snapped her fingers. In an instance, two black clad guards hurried into the room with a stretcher. They pulled her from the brunette and fought her onto the bed, overpowering her easy enough-the entire night left her drained of all energy she might have had-and strapping her down with leather belts.

The guards stood there for just a moment as if awaiting further orders from her but she dismissed them with a wave of her hand. She took her time making her way over to the stretcher and Claire was still struggling against her restraints. Excella brought the blade down her thigh and cut upwards until her pants were reduced to nothing more than shreds, leaving her legs visible.

"Make sure you don't move too much. You don't want my hand to slip do you?" She said quietly, as if speaking just to Claire, who merely turned her head away from the woman to pay attention to the blonde just a few feet from her. Her eyes softened and she noticed his did to. No silent words were exchanged but she could see the apolegetic look on his face, and the internal struggle that was taking him over.

"Well, let's begin. Sergei?" Excella looked to the man behind the metal platform, the self satisfied smirk on his face was all the admission she needed. Without even so much as a warning, she slipped the knife into Claire's calf shallowly, slithering it upwards to attempt to peel her skin off. Claire hissed and bent forward to bite down into the leather across her chest. She wouldn't scream, she couldn't allow them to hurt him. Who knew what that huge thing he was strapped to was? It could be anything but she didn't want to find out. Warm liquid poured down her leg and she looked up towards Wesker who was struggling to escape vainly.

Excella smiled and bore down into the bloody flesh further, nearly piercing through muscle, blood casting an eerie sheen on the metal table. Claire let out a tiny whimper and a tear slid from her eye as Excella continued her ministrations.

"Are you having fun Miss Redfield? Does that sting? Surely you want to release some of that pain don't you?" She emphasized the last sentence by taking a swipe at Claire's thigh carving at the flesh there viciously. She couldn't handle it anymore and let out a shrill scream apologizing over and over in her head as Sergei chuckled and flipped a switch.

All of her pain was forgotten as she watched in horror as the metal device went to work.

...

He wasn't angry at her, she had to let out the pain somehow, and he was surprised she had lasted as long as she had. The sound of metal grinding together caused his head to snap up at attention. A loud screech accompanied the feeling of cold metal rubbing against his leg and he looked down. Gears spun and the section that held his right leg began to turn, pulling his knee along with it. His lower leg was being pulled beyond it's threshold and a raw burning sting radiated up and down his leg and he felt and heard a rather loud crack and the sound of flesh ripping. He bit down on his lower lip as broken bone shard tore through the skin and he clenched his eyes shut.

"No! Stop it!" He heard her scream in futility, but he was more focused on the pain, searing and terrible, radiating up his body. Not soon enough the gears stopped as the did the sound of metal grinding and he looked down at his leg. The knee was all but shattered and his foot was pointed at a rather awkward angle. Even if he did get out of this, he didn't know if he would ever be able to fully repair that leg, and if he didn't get out soon he was sure the rest of his limbs would be equally destroyed as well.

With wavering vision he looked towards the stretcher and watched helplessly as Excella tore through Claire's upper thigh with the knife, the redhead looked close to passing out. Excella grabbed a piece of flesh with her bare hand and pulled, tearing it up and almost off of her. He closed his eyes shut tightly as a loud scream echoed throughout the warehouse and waited for the grinding of metal to sound.

Nothing happened. He opened his eyes to see Excella doubled over on the ground holding her hand gingerly to her chest. Her hand was burned, and flesh bubbled and popped sickeningly.

...

What the hell was going on? Apparently Excella had forgotten about her fine brand of torture and the smell of burning leather permeated the air. Claire watched in surprise as her own blood perforated the leather strap in large sections. A realization and a strange feeling hit her like an oncoming truck.

When Sergei had bitten her earlier he himself had been burned; at the time she thought that it was some outside force but now...

Her blood apparently had some acidic quality to it, although how that was possible she had no idea. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to know but now that she knew this she could use it to melt the straps away. Despite the pain of the skin dangling off of her leg in chunks she wiggled around in order to get more blood on the strap. Finally it was weak enough and she pushed her body upward a small smile on her face as it snapped free. As she went to work on procuring some more blood she noticed that Sergei was making his way over to see what was going on. A shiny glint caught her eye and she turned her head. Excella's knife was still laying next to her on the table. She winced and pulled her arm up, bringing her palm along the blade with a hiss. The skin cut cleanly and she spread it along the strap across her chest. The leather began to bubble and burn away and finally she snapped it off.

"What the fuck?" Sergei mumbled, paying more attention to Excella than to her, "The burns..."

"R-R-Restrain her...you bumbling idiot! She's...getting away." Excella gasped out, the blood still on her hand forcing itself through her flesh to the bone. She leapt off the floor and towards a sink in the far corner, intent on washing herself clean of it.

Sergei's head snapped towards the stretcher and saw Claire scrambling to her feet, blood dripping off her legs onto the floor, sizzling as they hit the ground. Just how the hell was that possible, that seemingly acidic substance destroyed everything it touched but she was unfazed. She froze as he reached out for her arm and in a split second decision she flicked her hand upward to his face, blood landing directly in his one good eye. From the lamp she had slammed against it earlier and the flesh burning off of it now, she was sure he would be completely blind soon. He screamed out, wrenching one arm up to wipe his face off with his sleeve and she landed a swift kick with her unwounded leg into his crotch. He cried out and fell back onto the ground as she tore away towards Wesker.

"Wesker, are you alright? Don't worry, I'm going to get you down, okay?" She breathed, and his dim eyes seemed watery although she was sure she was imagining it.

"Cl-" His voice was cut out by the familiar sound of a gun firing and she watched in horror as blood seeped from the fresh bullet wound on his chest and dribbled down his torso. She turned around to find Sergei hunched over with a 9 millimeter in his hand, smoke was curling from the barrel and despite the pain he was in, he was pleased that he had landed that shot perfectly.

"NO!" She flew at him, faster than he could follow. Even if he had perfect eyesight he wouldn't have been able to see the furious woman coming directly at him. In a flash she was before him and his eyes widened to find every one of her injuries completely healed. She brought her leg up and kicked him directly in the jaw, sending him flying directly into the brunette behind him. They both slammed into the metal wall with unbelievable force and from the way Excella's neck was twisted, one had to believe that she was dead upon impact. Claire seemed to be unfazed and began slow strides toward Sergei who was covered in head to toe with his own blood with pieces of sharp metal jutting out from his back, courtesy of the shredded wall. His eyes were filled with something akin to disbelief as he watched her coming towards him. Pale skin seemed to fade into a greenish hue, and vine-like veins spread up throughout her body. Her clothes fell away, burning off into ash, and something black fell to the floor with a dull clunk. Her normally dull red hair was now a vibrant fire color, and her eyes were glowing a bright turquoise complete with a perfect golden ring in the center. His mouth was agape as she stood before him, in complete awe and almost reverence over this beautiful creature.

In the moment before she thrust her arm through his chest, he searched her face for any sign of regret or even humanity. He found none. Whatever this was that had taken her over had done so completely and his his last moments he realized that she wasn't even Claire anymore.

...

_A/N: -sigh- I know...this one took an abhorringly long time to write, as the story comes to a close I find myself at a loss most times as what to put down. I am already planning on rewriting this entire story in the future, as I know that my writing seems to be lacking in comparison to other pieces. Also I'm in the process of getting all S's on Darkside on Very Hard lol. Plus combine that with my family duties, housework, my job and my fanart, I'm not very available to post flash-like chapters. Do not fret, however, this is the second to last chapter I think. I may add an epilogue or a flash forward to the sequel-which I am unsure of when I'm going to work on that but sometime within the next few months-but we'll see. Everything is basically on a 'we'll see' basis. I hope you liked this chapter and I know it was wayyyy overdue but the finale to this story may take even longer to crank out. Anyhow, read and review and thanks guys for your undying support. I appreciate it tenfold._

_Heh. The word Virus in latin translates to...Virus...Lmao. Go figure. _


	12. XII Inhumanus

_Disclaimer: The characters in the video game series, book series, movie series, or any other conceivable series under the title of "Resident Evil" do not belong to me. Nor do any songs I happen to use in the writing of this story. All rights to Resident Evil belong to Capcom and the songs belong to the respective artists. I am merely a fan, so enjoy._

...

Vas Domus

XI

Inhumanus

...

She collapsed to the floor, hands wrenching and pulling at her own flesh as she screamed out. The needle in her hand had dropped, falling with a plastic _chink_. What the hell had just happened? Her eyes roamed the room searching for a sign, for anything. Just an erratic head movement made nausea bubble up into her gut and she bent forward viciously hurling up stomach acid and blood. She wiped her mouth weakly and looked toward the two figures heaped on the ground.

Excella was dead, her head had basically been twisted around to her back and coagulated blood stuck to her face and had gelled on the floor. Sergei was also dead, a large open wound leaving an almost see-through hole in his chest.

She didn't care.

Her own burning flesh and racing mind was all she had to occupy herself, and she desperately pulled her body to stand up alone. A mess of blonde hair and ashen skin caught her eye.

"Oh my god, Wesker!" She rasped out, stumbling towards him as he lay unmoving on the ground before the metal torture device. She pulled his body into her lap, and fisted her fingers into whatever was left of his shirt.

"Wesker? Wesker wake up, Excella and Sergei..they're dead...come on get up. I can't drag you out of here by myself. Wesker?" She shook him but the only response she received was his arm falling limply across the ground.

"Wesker! Come on! Stop messing around, wake up, damnit! We have to go!" She shook him harder this time, desperately. He wasn't dead. He couldn't die, he was Albert fucking Wesker. Every other time he'd been killed he came back, he certainly couldn't be dead this time.

"Please..." She begged, tears dripping onto his grey-blue face, "Wake up...please.."

He didn't move. She bent down and pressed her ear to his chest listening for his heartbeat but there was none. Whether out of desperation or sheer mania she didn't know but she started pushing on his chest, attempting in vain to breathe some life back into him. Her efforts bore nothing, as he was still as dead as he had been when that bullet pierced his heart. She shoved harder, clearly with unstable sanity at this point, but now it was more out of anger and fear and not so much as an attempt to save him.

"You fucking bastard! You can't just...tell me to leave and then go off and die. Fuck you! Fuck you, you coward! You useless...son of a bitch...-" Her anger was cut short by her grief and she all but fell ontop of him, sobbing for everything. She cried for herself, her brother, Steve, and then she cried for him. Unrelenting on her grip of him, even after her sobs ceased she just laid there, hanging onto his body. She heard voices but she didn't respond to them, she just didn't care. The guards had stumbled upon this disaster and she assumed they had fled soon after but she didn't pay any heed to that. Still, the bastards hit the switch for the facility purgiing system. They always do that...

An all too familiar automated voice came over the loud speaker, stating that the facility would be destroyed in ten minutes but she never moved or flinched.

There was no point in getting up anymore and she was ready for it this time. The end was so close that she could taste it, she was almost eager for it to be all over.

Something glimmered in the corner of her eye and she almost ignored it. There was a syringe on the floor, about five feet from her the viscous red fluid inside almost sparkling from the overhead light.

The virus. _His_ virus.

She remembered now! In her previous disheveled state after whatever the hell had just happened she had grabbed it before Sergei took her away. Her eyes widened as she scrambled away from Wesker and reached out for the needle, cradling it in her hands as if it was something precious.

She was insane, she knew, in order to even think about injecting it into him. Even if it did work she risked terrible things happening, but she didn't have much of a choice. The way she saw it, it was either try and fail or try and risk everything.

He'd be alive though, and that was all she cared about. With shaking hands she pierced his throat with the needle, pushing the plunger down until it was emptied into his body.

And then she waited.

"**Seven minutes until detonation, employees evacuate to the designated evacuation area immediately. Repeat: Seven minutes until detonation, evacuate immediately."**

Claire shot a scowl at the ceiling, as if the computer generated voice could even see her but she didn't care. She didn't think she was quite sane anymore, so she could scowl at inanimate objects without a care in the world. _As if you had ever really been sane in the first place, _she thought with a bittersweetness that seemed out of place. A few minutes had passed and nothing happened, and instead of scream or cry or do anything that she wanted to she merely laid next to him, and placed her hand over his cold one. Who had ever figured that she would die alongside her long-time former enemy? Chris would have disowned her, and if it had been him he'd be feeling the victory of Wesker's death that she was _supposed to feel._ Nothing was going to happen, she realized, it was all over now. She let her eyes drift close without so much as a reservation except that soon she would be blown to smithereens along with this base. She was so tired, exhaustion wracking her body with so much force that sleep seemed like such a great thing to do. In seconds she was deeply immersed into a coma-like sleep and into a place where nothing could hurt her anymore. No more nightmares, no more zombies, no more guilt, no more.

...

He wrenched up, gasping for air as if it had been his very first breath. His eyes roamed the room, noting the two bodies in the corner and the sleeping woman next to him. He was confused, how exactly had they ended up like that? Had Claire done it? From the severity of their injuries, it was hard to tell what had killed them, but whatever it was it wasn't human. Perhaps there was another tyrant in the facility? It was plausible considering Excella had gotten her hands on some vital research tools that could help her in creating such a thing. He stood with little effort and wasn't even caught off guard at the feminine voice that told him that the facility would be eliminated in a matter of minutes. He removed the needle from his throat, and immediately he knew what it was. He didn't even wonder why or how his leg was in perfect condition again or that the bullet wound on his chest had healed up flawlessly.

He knew he had died, the bullet killing him almost instantly, and for him to simply wake up like that..

It didn't matter. He'd run some tests later. However...

He felt refreshed, revived and completely unlike how he felt the first time he had introduced the virus into his system. There had been severe complications for several weeks, literally dozens of side effects as the virus fought his cells for control, but it was nothing like that now. Now he felt stronger than he had in years.

He looked down at the sleeping woman in his arms, noting the strange flame red color of her hair and the fading-however slowly-veins that protruded from her throat and jaw. What the hell had she done to herself? Only when he felt the familiar thrum of her body did it all fall into place.

Claire was infected.

The elevator came to a smooth stop and he stepped out onto the rooftop. He broke into a slight jog and hurried towards the lone helicopter, placing her gently in the seat next to the pilot's. He climbed in and started it up, lifting it off the ground with perfect skill. It took him hardly any time to pilot the vehicle before he was safely out of the blast range, but the sound of the explosion seemed terribly loud in his ears. Flames rose up out of the building and looking back he realized that it must have been a newer one; he had never seen it before.

The sun was starting to rise, painting the sky with vibrant hues of orange and pink. He looked over at her, clothes covered in blood, hair a complete mess and he knew she was beautiful.

He almost frowned, feeling somewhat numb and empty on the inside. It seemed the virus had taken to him even better than the first time and he pondered if this was a good thing or a bad thing. He averted his eyes to the side window, not at all alarmed at his own reflection. The previous blue had been replaced with a caustic mix of red and orange only his pupil seemed more rounded than it had before. He decided to run some tests once he found a safer place to go, to guage the effects of the virus. The sun flooding in through the window at the high altitude was somewhat bothersome but he ignored it.

He had a much more pressing matter to deal with at the moment.

He pulled open a console on the top of the helicopter roof and a cell phone dropped into his hand. He flipped it open and noting that it was registered to Tricell he hit the '0' key and placed it to his ear. An automated voice came over the speaker, exuding a fake cheery accent.

_"Please specify a business, personal or government listing."_

"Leon S. Kennedy,"

_"Two listings for Leon S. Kennedy found. One business and one personal. Which listing would you like?"_

He thought for a second, "Personal."

_"Leon S. Kennedy, 1421 Grant Boulevard Washington D.C. Apartment number 213. Would you like to be put through to the number?"_

"Yes."

After a moment it started to ring, the automated service patching him through. At first he thought that the government agent wasn't home, as it took several rings to get an answer but finally he did.

_"Hello?"_

That was all he needed and hung up, it wasn't as if he would actually speak to the man, there was no point. He just needed affirmation of him being at his home. He checked the coordinates of his location on the console and found that they were maybe half an hour from the ex-RPD member's house.

He'd have to find another means of transportation though, he couldn't just bring a helicopter on someone's front lawn. That was a bit conspicuous for even for him. Soon enough he found an abandoned lot full of overgrown weeds and grass nearly as high as he was and touched down. He got out and looked around for a minute, to his surprise there was an old Ford Taurus that was sitting on the side of the road. He decided to leave her in the helicopter while he checked it out and hurried over to it. The car was beat all to hell but it seemed as if it were in decent working condition, there was only one way to tell though. The door was unlocked and he slid inside, searching around the dashboard and console for a key. Once again he was surprised as he found one settled right inside of the middle console, nestled between a bunch of receipts and papers. He ignored the papers and grabbed the key, jamming it into the ignition and turned it.

Nothing.

He tried once again but with no better results; of course it didn't work, why else would someone abandon it out here? Just as he was about to get out he noticed that the gas guage needle was bottomed out, E seeming like something that had been a long time ago. Exiting the car he hurried over to the helicopter and found a gas can that was half full and he carried it over to the car and poured it in the tank. He threw the can in the trunk and slid back into the front seat, cranking the car once more. It started this time and he smirked before hurrying over to the helicopter to procure his female companion. She was still cold unconcious, and by the looks of it, he doubted she would wake anytime soon. It didn't seem to be a coma of any particular health problem, she was probably just in some terrible shock and coupled with exhaustion he was surprised she hadn't passed out much earlier. He placed her in the backseat, laying her across it and was struck with a strange feeling of deja vu.

How long had it been since that night he had rescued her from that drunk? Over half a year he knew. He felt something odd stirring just beneath his skin, a reaction that he had never felt before. Perhaps it was because of her?

It didn't matter much anymore. Once word got out that he was alive and infected again-and he was sure it would, things just happened like that-there would much commotion in the world of bioterror.

Not to mention that with this new power he began to remember exactly what had driven him in the first place; Claire didn't fit into his world.

He couldn't lie and say that he hadn't garnered an affection towards her in the time they had been together. He had and he knew it but affection and attachment was simply something that he had never planned for nor had he ever wanted. And as much as it bothered him to say it, Claire didn't need the burden of falling to the wayside that was being involved with him.

Attachment just wasn't something he did, period.

There was a time, not too long ago, that he had pondered what it would be like to actually be involved with her but now he could see that that was simply a fleeting human desire, one he had no right to trifle with.

As he cruised down the empty streets of D.C he briefly pondered where he would go after he left Claire in the safety of Kennedy. Perhaps it was time to move forward with a new company? Biochemistry was in his blood, it was what he was made for, why he thought he could just toss it aside he had no idea.

This was why he hated humanity, humans were flaky and unthorough. He had started to fall into that and hadn't even caught himself. He peered at the girl still asleep in the backseat. They would be seeing eachother again for sure, he knew. He could feel her own bond with whatever virus she had come in contact with thrumming hard inside of her body, and was somehow causing a trigger in his own. That in itself required further study, plus there were other...intriguing reasons to have her around.

Of course soon they would be enemies again; she would tell that Kennedy that she had been in his possession all this time and the battle would start up soon enough.

It hadn't all been a disaster though, he had received an opportunity to get into the head of a Redfield, which could prove useful in future projects. She could become a valuable asset to him in the future.

A slight tug in his chest made him wince. Why did that prospect internally bother him? Humans had only ever been potential tools to him, so why did the thought of her being the same make him feel strange?

Soon enough he arrived at the large apartment building and parked in the back under the canopy of some trees where he wouldn't be spotted. Lucky for him the man's apartment was on the ground floor. He scooped Claire up in his arms and hurried towards the door, she opened her eyes for a brief moment as he placed her on the doorstep carefully. A small drained smile flit across her face before she was unconcious again. He reached down to move the hair out of her face, taking a moment to study her for what could be the last time in a very long time. Her head was still warm but it had been significantly colder before. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and placed it into the pocket of her tattered up jeans, rang the doorbell, took one last look at her and was gone in an instant.

It seemed silly he thought, as he sat in the car watching in the rearview as a surprised Leon Kennedy hurried to get Claire inside, leaving her on the doorstep like one would leave a baby at a monastery. There really was no other way. He could have sworn Leon had stared right at the Taurus but he didn't care. In a matter of hours he would be on a plane to another part of the world, it would take a long time for them to find him by the next day.

He pulled out of the parking lot, lost in his thoughts. He had to let any previous notions of what could have been between he and Claire go. There was business to be had and a few bugs to squish in the process.

His voice was somewhat raspy as he spoke to no one, thick and hot on his tongue. The sound of her voice trailed in his head and her blue eyes were bright in his memory.

"Goodnight, dear heart."

...

A/N: Well...That was the last chapter...I can't believe it's done! No it's not the best HOWEVER this is only my first story so..I'm inclined for a little suckage before I get better lol. Anyhow..I lied..It's almost done lol. I still have to write the epilogue! Yeah so after that it will be done! ZOMG! Now I can start working on either the sequel OR Natural Selection. Since hardly any of you voted...*glares* Ill just decide myself I suppose lol. Read and Review and THANKS SO MUCH for staying with me this long. Yes I know I am very late on the update but real life is a bitch lol. Epilogue to come soon!


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